The Gloaming
by YourpalMoony
Summary: Secrets and lies don't make friends. Secrets and lies can lead to death. Who would be the one to push her over the edge. Her father? Derek who she once considered a brother? Or perhaps the awkward boy with the big brown eyes and buzzcut who makes her heart flutter. Nikita Grace has been shielded from the supernatural world since birth, but now it's come to hunt her down. Oc/Stiles
1. Chapter 1

_For a moment there was nothing but tranquility._

 _Horror and serenity filled her, two diametrically opposed sensations resisting like oil on water. Her heart beating in her chest faster than any living thing imaginable. Yet all she could do was softly lower her eyelids, readying herself, preparing for what should have been a quick and certain death. Or so she had hoped. Cold, sharp winds bit at her bare legs, vision obscured by her dark hair flying in her face. She was weightless as a delicate feather, cradled by the hands of the cold muted night. The only sound, her beautiful pink dress flapping wildly about her, the dress she had chosen for what she believed would have been a special night. How her stomach felt twisted...and light, like hitting turbulence mid air._

 _She wasn't floating._

 _No._

 _She was dropping, crashing down to earth. Forced over the edge of Suicide Hill._

 _A flightless bird about to meet her demise._

 _ **Crunch.**_

 _The bones in her body made a sickening sound at the moment of impact. She hit the ice dusted ground, shattering every bit of her. The reality of it had yet to come, for her mind was still processing, sending signals of burning pain to her nervous system. With her mouth hung open she let out the only sound her body could produce, a dry croak. Not loud enough for anyone to hear, no one was around to hear. She was dying in the middle of the Beacon Hills Preserves. It was unlikely anyone would be able to find her, not here. Fingers desperately grasped at the dirt, as though she could use the hard soil to sit herself up._

 _She should have listened to Walter. She should have listened to Derek. They had warned her to stay out of the woods, they had warned her of dangers. If only she had taken heed of their words._

 _Was this her punishment?_

 _In that moment her rampant thoughts sounded like a thousand tortured screams filling her head. So much she should have done, so much she should have stayed away from. Shoulds, should nots. At once those thoughts went silent, her mind escaping into a shallow void, allowing her to envision Stiles' smiling face; a second's respite. A thread of hope to hold onto._

 _That delicate thread snapped along with the initial shock of her fall. The only thing she could envision now...those horrible red savage eyes._

 _Then it hit her, like a swan dive into an ice filled pool. Inevitable was the pain. Every inch of her, skin and bone, drumming with it. Affliction shot through her body, a bolt of unfathomable agony. It was as though someone had soaked her bones in kerosene and lit the match. Death would have been merciful, death would have been better than this hell._

 _Pain raked its jagged little claws from the back of her skull to the base of her spine, it sunk its many crooked teeth into her flesh and penetrated into her bones. It squeezed and it squeezed at her lungs, strangling her of breath, wrapping its cold hands around her slim pale throat. The whites of her eyes showing all around with sheer terror and excruciating agony. She could feel the warmth of her own blood pooling around her head, the ground greedily sucking at the crimson like it were the first rain of the season. She could taste blood, the hot metallic tang coated the back of her throat and loomed on the tip of her tongue. The bleeding would not stop. This was it for Nikita. There was nothing for her to do but to yield to death, let it consume her into an oblivion._

 _And she thought to herself..._

 _ **You foolish girl.**_

 _ **You did this.**_

 _ **You lead yourself to your own death.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! I am back at it again with yet another re-write to the Nikita Grace series.**

 **Thank you to my friends who have been putting up with me recently, those of you who know this story by heart now, and to the new readers.**

 **A thank you especially to: Itbelongsinamuseum , xXbriannaXx , and Janedoee7**

* * *

" _These things...happen."_

 _She would forever remember Walter's empty words as they lowered her mother's coffin to lay six feet under. A wreath of stark white Orchids rested on the gorgeous dark mahogany stained casket, her mother's favorite flowers. Nikita looked to him vehemently, her bold eyebrows meeting together, a crease forming as her frown deepened. The back of a tampon box could have given better advice than her own father._

 _Yes, his voice was laced with sorrow, yet his words held no warmth, nor did they hold the affection Nikita was seeking. Walter looked forward, to where his ex-wife now rested, refusing or rather frightened to meet his own daughter's gaze. This was the first time the two of them held each other's presence in nearly six years. And his first words to her?_

" _ **These things happen"**_

 _Perhaps it was unfair of Nikita to judge the man who only made an effort to contact her during the holidays or her birthday. At least he was kind enough to send her a handwritten letter once a month since her departure from Beacon Hills, letters that always found their way into the trash bin. When it came down to it, Walter Grace had chosen Beacon Hills over his now deceased ex-wife and daughter._

 _His appearance had changed from the last time she remembered. Walter's thick dark brown hair now streaked with grey, lines and creases etched the surface of his skin. He looked broader than she remembered, athletic and tall, with the build of a retired football player. And his eyes, his eyes were the same as hers, or so she had always been told growing up. In some instances they were greener than spanish moss, and at times they were darker and richer than Devil's Cake._

 _Walter looked much older, but none the wiser, she thought to herself._

 _What a beautiful day it was, a perfect sunny Southern California morning. In the distant horizon was the ocean, the deep indigo bleeding into the cloudless sky. It was almost impossible to tell where the ocean stopped and where the sky started. She looked to the sea with longing, too far to take in every detail, but close enough to smell the briny salt. Nikita closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, committing the ocean breeze to memory. She would have to kiss the Los Angeles beaches goodbye, Santa Monica, Zuma, and Venice, trade it for the lush Beacon Hills Preserves._

 _Nikita's hazel eyes looked past him, to her mother's family sitting in the rows behind her. All of them native to Los Angeles, all of them loved her so fiercely. Yet she would be going back to Beacon Hills with the man she called Walter, not father._

 _Walter cleared his throat, it was time for them to bury her mother. Everything had happened so fast, Nikita had yet to come to grips her mother's death, until now. Her best friend was truly gone, never again would Nikita hear her warm laughter or feel her gentle touch. A part of Nikita's heart would refuse to heal from this. The lump in the back of her throat grew to the point where she was scared to open her mouth. For if she did, she wouldn't be able to stop the sobs she so carefully held back._

 _The father and daughter got up and knelt before the grave. Her fingers dug into the rich soil, feeling the weightlessness resting in her palm. With her head bowed towards the grave, she whispered her final words. Words of tenderness she wished she had said sooner, words her mother would never hear. Ever again._

 _Nikita opened her hand above the grave, allowing the loose bits of dirt to fall from the cracks of her fingers. Carefully she sprinkled the soil over her mother's coffin, the black dirt sullying the white pristine Orchids._

* * *

 **Four months later...**

The sun blazed through silver spun clouds, allowing its rays to kiss Nikita before hiding once more. With a deep inhale she closed her eyes and let herself be enveloped by the exhilarating sounds and aromas of the woods. The only silver lining in Beacon Hills...the rich foliage of the Preserves. Even in her childhood Nikita would seek peace and solitude in the heart of the thickets. This is where she would disappear, vanish from the world, and at the same time, this is where she would find herself.

How she had missed the familiar scent of pines, dead leaves, and wet moss. There was something about Mother Nature's perfume that always made her feel like a child inside. Maybe it's because Nikita was back in her childhood playground, the woods which she and Cora Hale had claimed as their own. Their little magical woodland world in the middle of Beacon Hills. She and Cora had been the best of friends growing up, practically sisters by choice.

The Hale family had been an important part of Nikita's childhood. Derek Hale being the brother who was always forced to babysit the girls, and Uncle Peter; the one who would constantly spoil her rotten. Just thinking of Cora made her smile fade. It was the house fire that ruined everything. The fire had decimated the Hale family, it had taken her best friend from her. Not only that, after the fire Nikita's parents divorced. Walter stayed behind in Beacon Hills, she and her mother moved to Los Angeles.

Nikita peddled harder on her candy red beach cruiser bike, wanting to get the Hale family out of her mind. Instead, nerves took a hold of her. Sugary breakfast cereal swished angrily in the pit of her stomach. She prayed to whatever god she wouldn't throw up on her first day of school. Like most, Nikita had a common fear of not fitting in. A part of her wanted to blend in. Nikita wanted to believe she would forge meaningful relationships. However, she knew better. If history showed any indication, people always seemed to leave her, and if not..she would leave them.

She would settle with temporary friends and temporary relationships in her new temporary lifestyle. And when the time came in a few short years, she would find herself back in Los Angeles with her real friends and family. Nikita had been lucky, in the few brief months she had been in Beacon Hills she had already made friends. Danny Mahealani just happened to be her neighbor, and through him she met Jackson Whittemore and Lydia Martin. The latter two weren't the type of people Nikita usually hung out with back in Los Angeles. But their social status would make her life so much easier.

Nikita rode out into the clearing and back onto the main road, Beacon Hills High right before her. Carefully she placed a lock onto her beach cruiser, one of Walter's many gifts to pacify her. Not as impressive as the mini cooper parked in her driveway.

"What are those?"

Nikita jumped to her feet, startled by the familiar voice.

Lydia Martin stood behind her, arms crossed and lips pursed in distaste. Her round olive eyes zeroed in on Nikita's sneakers, Converse to be exact. Lydia Martin was the type of popular girl you believed only existed in a 90's teen movie. She looked like a sweet American Girl Doll, who could also put the fear of god into anyone with a shred of common sense. She also came fully equipped with a designer handbag for every day of the week and a crippling case of only child syndrome. Nikita found it oddly charming and slightly terrifying in the way Lydia put down bottom feeders, 'bottom feeders' as in anyone who wasn't them. That included those who held interests in Band, comics, Color Guard, people with awful drives, and anyone who couldn't keep up with the latest styles. Lydia only claimed Nikita to be at the top of the pyramid for three reasons: Having an "above average" face, being fresh meat, and of course being Jackson's girlfriend.

"They're called shoes, Lydia." Nikita mused as she pulled her book bag out of the bike basket. No way was she going to wear high heels while biking to school.

"Those" Lydia sneered and pointed at Nikita's feet with perfectly polished nails. "are called monstrosities."

Nikita let out a soft laugh, nothing like being judged by Lydia Martin's melodrama early in the morning. Her dislike stronger than black bitter coffee. Lydia shook her head, her loose strawberry curls shaking with her disapproving motion.

"And you rode a bike? You know you prolonged your journey by at least…" Lydia paused, and for once Nikita had the rare opportunity of witnessing the cogs and gears spinning in her friend's head as she calculated the distance. " Eighteen minutes and thirty-one seconds."

Playfully, she clapped Lydia's shoulder and gave her best sarcastic smile. " I'm impressed! Careful now, Lydia. We don't want people thinking you're smart."

Watching Lydia's half smile fall was well worth it. This was the basis of their "friendship." Nikita slung her bag over her shoulder to start her journey inside the school, ready to tackle whatever fresh hell that was flung her way. That's when she felt her boyfriend's arms wrap around her shoulder. She knew it was him right away by the overpowering scent of his cologne. There was no way in logical hell he even liked the cologne, Nikita was certain he only bought it because it was the most expensive designer toilet water at the department store. The strong spices tickled at her nose, making her feel like she was on the perpetual verge of a sneeze. Jackson pressed his lips against the side of her head, smiling into her hair.

"You know I could have picked you up."

Jackson took off his chrome framed Versace sunglasses so she could peer into his sky blue eyes. His sharp jaw twitched the slightest with annoyance. Being refused was something Jackson was not used to, and the fact his girlfriend rolled in on a bike rather than his Porsche was more than irritating. She walked hand in hand with Jackson up the stairs and into the school hall, Lydia toting silently behind them. It took only a split second for every muscle in Nikita's body to tense up, all eyes on her. Yes, being Jackson's girlfriend had its social perks, its ups. But in moments such as this, Nikita wished she could disappear. Everyone was curious to see the new girl hanging onto Jackson's arm, wondering if she's pretty enough or good enough for the captain of the lacrosse team.

And the whispers began.

Nikita turned to look at Lydia, who carried herself with such high esteem; if only Nikita had a faction of the confidence Lydia Martin held.

Jackson let out a sigh as they reached Lydia's locker. He placed a warm hand beneath Nikita's chin, lifting her face the slightest to stare into her eyes. "Sadly this is where I leave you."

A slight smile tugged at his lips. Reluctance swirling behind his soft baby blue eyes, for he didn't want to leave Nikita so soon. The two of them didn't share a single class, this would be the last time they would see each other until break. With that he gave her hand a gentle squeeze before joining his peers.

The gawkers were still gawking.

Vultures.

All of them.

Nikita leaned against the lockers, feeling the cold metal press against her shoulders. Without a word she met every person's gaze, in a way she was asserting her dominance, refusing to let others see how weak she was on the inside. Lydia swung open her locker, putting a divide between them.

" I knew you would wear those things." Lydia started again, like a relentless dog with a bone.

" My bike, Lydia." Her friend was starting to test her patience, any moment now and Nikita's half-assed placed filter would turn into a verbal diarrhea, aimed at her friend's general direction.

Lydia had yet to look at her, olive eyes deeply transfixed on her mirror as she reapplied her fruity lip gloss. "Uh-huh, your bike. Know who else rides a bike to school?"

With a sharp nod to the right Lydia pointed towards a group of scrawny freshman boys. All of them greasy faced, speckled with acne and circling around what Nikita assumed to be a Nudie Magazine.

" _They_ ride bikes." Lydia pointed out as she fixed her lip gloss in the mirror.

Nikita couldn't help but to roll her eyes at Lydia's obsessive fixation with her bike. It was an argument not worth having, so instead she stayed silent on the matter in hopes Lydia would find something else to complain about. Although it was hard to stay focused on Lydia's complaints when once again the whispers and giggles started. Nikita looked up to see a group of girls across the hall, all four of them looking at her.

"Can they be any more obvious?" She thought to herself.

With a sly gaze Nikita looked to the side to see Lydia still preoccupied with her makeup, and her ear pressed against her cell phone while ranting about the importance of nail bed health. The coast was clear; Nikita saluted both girls with her middle fingers while mouthing the words " **Fuck off**." The girls were the only ones who seemed to catch sight of it as their snickering stopped, their expressions turning sour.

It was Nikita's turn to snicker.

"That's not very nice of you." An unfamiliar voice saturated with dry sarcasm came to the right of her.

The other side of her stood a boy she had never met before. Nikita took in her bottom lip between her teeth as she carefully studied him. He was tall, much taller than Jackson, perhaps the tallest boy in school. Whoever he was, he was built with a lean and athletic body. Dark brown unbrushed hair fell messily right above his stunning and impossibly vibrant blue eyes. Right away she eyed his Sonic Youth shirt, the band logo faded and grey from being worn so constantly. He looked to her with an all knowing smile, his left brow crooked up, before placing his attention back to his open locker. His locker door, she noticed, was littered with concert flyers and ticket stubs. At once Nikita found an array of musical interests they had in common. It was then she decided he would be a person she hoped to get to know. The first person she had met so far who had anything in common with her.

"I never claimed to be a nice person." Nikita flashed a friendly smile, her single dimple appearing on her right cheek, and sarcasm oozing out of her every word.

He only let out an amused chuckle, closed his locker door, and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

"Right, that photograph of you missing your two front teeth in your father's office says otherwise. You looked so positively wholesome, pigtails and all."

Nikita's face twisted into confusion and absolute mortification. She knew very well which photograph he was referring to. Her second grade yearbook photo when she lost her two front teeth at the same time. It took forever for those bunny teeth to come back normal. For a while she was even labeled as dagger mouth, because of the jagged way they grew back, and learned to conceal her smile.

While stuck in her anguished trip down orthodontic hell memory lane, mystery boy snatched her class schedule from her hand. He so casually walked away without a single care, only peering over his shoulder with a devilish smile to make sure Nikita was following. And so she did. They abandoned Lydia, leaving her to her long phone conversation.

"I'm sorry, do I know you? Because clearly you know me." Nikita found it difficult to keep up with his long strides and the way he expertly maneuvered through the sea of students.

"I would hope so. My dad works with Walter." Mystery Boy had yet to lift his big blue eyes from her schedule, comparing their classes with an eager enthusiasm.

"In fact Wally was over a few nights ago, he made that amazing pot roast of his." He closed his eyes for a moment, as if to recall the succulent taste.

Nikita was absolutely dumbstruck at this point. Whoever he was, clearly close to her father, calling him Wally like they were the best of friends. They were buddy buddy and it absolutely irked Nikita. Pot roast? Walter never made her pot roast before, in fact he's never made her a single meal. Nikita's diet was far from healthy, her regular meals including fast food and cereal. Most nights it was frozen pizza or takeout. Nikita couldn't remember the last time she ate a home cooked meal, possibly her Mother's.

"Don't even get me started on the buttered parmesan brussel sprouts. Usually brussel sprouts creep me out, they look like little alien pods that are seconds away from hatching a chestburster. Or they're about to congregate and call in the mothership to end all of humanity as we know it...Ya know? But damn, Wally knows what he's doing." He continued yearningly.

"Yeah I get it-" Nikita's tone sharper than she intended, but he seemed to pay no mind.

That's when she remembered her father worked closely with another surgeon, Brody Jones. She had heard Walter speak Brody's name only a few times, a casual mention of his two sons. But for the life of her she couldn't remember their names. It was on the tip of her tongue, frustration was starting to settle in with Mystery Boy's games. Nikita had always been curious in nature, maybe he was humoring her, keeping her on her toes. One thing was for certain, he knew how to hold her interest. Then it came to her, his name, she had certainly heard Walter speak it before.

Quickly she snatched back her schedule from his hand, feeling smug for finally having the upper hand.

"It's Joey, right?"

His answer came to her in the form of boisterous laughter. Clearly Nikita had missed the mark with that one. She had followed him blindly and without question into the classroom, even taking a seat next to him. His personality was alluring, comfortable, clearly he was the kind who made friends easily. He finally looked to her with a disarming smile, and right away she found herself at ease in his friendly presence.

" It's Jonesy, but you were pretty close." He relaxed back into his seat, knees just barely fitting underneath the table and extended his hand out for her to shake.

"What kind of a name is Jonesy?" She thought to herself while shaking his hand, such an odd name. " I'm pretty sure it's Joey." Nikita teased.

Jonesy feigned hurt, curling his bottom lip over in a childish manner. " Someone's jealous they didn't get to try the parmesan buttered brussel sprouts. And I don't blame you."

Nikita pulled out her pencil case, already arranging her materials neatly across her desk, ready for her first class. "That's a dumb assumption. Aren't you supposed to be smart? Being a surgeon's son and all?"

Jonesy let out a laugh, twirling his pencil expertly between his index and forefinger like a drum stick. A perfect ripe quip already on the tip of his tongue. "Jokes on you Nikita, I'm adopted."

As soon as the words left him, he began to cringe, seeing that he just insulted himself in attempt to take her down. Jonesy sunk deep into his seat. For a moment there was an awkward silence from Nikita before she burst into laughter. Jonesy handled his defeat with real dignity, even laughing along with her.

"Nikita 1, Joey 0." Nikita retorted.

Jonesy shook his head, his right brow cocking up. "Are you sure you're in the right class?"

Nikita's laughing came to a sudden halt like a child running into a screen door. The heat of humiliation crawled up the back of her neck. If there were a hole in the ground surely she would have surely crawled into it by now, away from Jonesy, away from this embarrassing situation. She had blindly followed him without even double checking her schedule, only he knew if she was in the right place or not. Nikita nearly jumped out of her seat to grab her purse, panic filled as she pulled out her crumpled schedule.

Jonesy's body now trembling from holding in his laughter. "I'm kidding….Nikita."

She shot dagger like stares at him, trying her best to conceal her smile. He was pretty damn sly, there was no denying that.

"Nikita 1, Jonesy 1." He finished with a charming smile.

* * *

 **Walter's POV**

There it stood before him.

Once a home, a warm home filled with a loving family. Walter could still recall every detail to the interior of the home. The scent of Talia's freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and sounds of Cora and Nikita laughing and playing in the backyard would never leave him. Many summer nights had been spent at the Hale house, backyard parties and barbeques.

Fond distant memories had turned to bitter ash, forever suspended in a state of decay. Anything that had stood to serve evidence that a family once lived here had dissipated. All that was left was dilapidation, an exoskeleton, a hollow shell of a home that used to be.

Walter swallowed thickly, fighting to keep down the lump building in the back of his throat. He had never visited the house on his own, even after it had burned down six years ago. Goosebumps rose to the flesh of his skin. Even til this day Walter's stomach would churn violently thinking of Peter's skin practically melting off his face like candle wax. And his screams of pain would forever be engraved in Walter's mind, all those hours of strained agony, begging to be put out of his misery.

Walter was only here for one reason, a ghost from his past had reached out for him, seeking guidance and help.

The earth and loose stones crunched beneath his feet, finally he felt resolute enough to make a move towards the home. Yet, Walter's strides came to an abrupt stop. Derek Hale walked out the front door. Walter's breathing felt uneven, quickened. The boy had grown into a man, with cold eyes and a hardened jaw. A rather permanent grimace set deeply into his features. It was almost unsettling how much of a resemblance Derek held with his deceased father. The two came face to face for the first time in years. An unspoken awkwardness followed, neither knew how to start a conversation, neither knew where to start. There was no other topic, just death. The corner of Derek's lip tugged upwards, just the slightest.

The only sign Walter needed.

He pulled the young werewolf into a hug. Derek must have forgotten what it was like to hug someone back, his arms limp at his side, unsure if now was the time for hugging. Walter didn't mind, even pulling away to look at him. The young Hale was smiling at him, but behind those misty grey eyes Walter could see fear and concern. Something was amiss, and Derek was holding back.

"Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Grace." Derek spoke in a too-formal tone.

Walter gave him a lopsided grin, shaking his head in disbelief. " All these years, and you still can't call me Walter?"

The corner of Derek's lips tugged just the slightest in a half smile, and the two of them began to journey into the thickets. The woods wasn't the type of place Walter ventured into. Most of his time was spent at the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, where he worked countless hours. Whatever sliver of time he could afford was spent at home, in hopes of mending his tarnished relationship with his daughter. Lately she didn't want a thing to do with him. And he couldn't blame her.

The two walked side by side accompanied by a symphony of nature's sounds, a symphony of birds and crickets chirping. " I'm happy to see you." Walter admitted " but you sounded a little concerned on the phone."

Derek didn't bother to tear his gaze off ahead of him, eyes scanning the woods, in a frantic search of something. Something dear to him.

" Laura calls me twice a day." He finally looked to Walter, neither stopping their journey through the preserves. " I haven't heard from her in three days. Last I heard from her, she said she was coming home."

Home? The two didn't have a home here, not anymore. The surviving Hale siblings fled to New York, where Walter hoped they had lived the best of their lives; they deserved that much. Everyone Walter ever knew had fled Beacon Hills after the Hale Fire. His best friend, Derek's father, perished along with the rest of the Hales. Derek and Laura striving to find normalcy in New York. And of course, Sarah and Nikita.

"I'm sure she's fine." Walter said in a smooth reassuring tone. "Laura is very diligent, she clearly has a plan." And he genuinely believed so.

A heavy blanket of silence fell upon them. Neither of them uncomfortable with the quiet, finding the stillness to be peaceful. Walter couldn't help but to take a look at Derek now and then, still amazed at how much he had grown up.

"So, Nikita is back home?" It seemed as though Derek didn't want to dwell in worry, changing the topic with ease.

Walter stuffed his hands into his pocket, taking a moment to glance at and admire the leafy canopy above them. "She sure is. She made friends right away. Even then I worry, I don't think she's adjusting too well."

The Beta shrugged his shoulders at this. "I wouldn't either if I was forced to move back to Beacon Hills."

Walter carried on walking, hoping Derek wouldn't press on any further about Nikita. Derek hadn't seen Nikita since the fire, it was only natural for him to inquire about someone he once cared for. But of course Derek was going to ask the one question Walter really wanted to avoid.

"How did you introduce her to the supernatural world after the fire? How did she take it?"

"I haven't. And I never will." Walter answered at once with little hesitation.

In Derek's mind it didn't make sense. Nikita should have been well immersed and educated on the supernatural by now. She had lived amongst wolves for more than half her life, since infancy, without a clue. Granted, she was just a child, excusing her naïveté. To bring Nikita into the world of the supernatural was to prepare her for anything that came her way. However, Walter believed bringing Nikita into the supernatural world was a sure way to paint a bright red target on her back, even with her being human.

He could feel Derek's disapproval and silent judgement thickening in the air. However, like a stone, it left Walter's opinions unmoved. He knew very well what it took to protect Nikita, shielding her far from the supernatural world was a must.

"Before you decide to throw a debate on this, you should know it was Sarah's wish to keep Nikita out of the supernatural circle."

Once again silence was upon them. An argument Derek could not win, for Sarah Grace was now six feet under. It was wrong to disrespect the wishes of the dead.

The most pungent odor hit the two of them like a brick, how Derek didn't smell it earlier was beyond them. Walter knew the smell right away, it was the unmistakable scent of decomposition. The two exchanged confused glances before breaking into a run, mindlessly running towards whatever was causing the smell. Derek, much faster than Walter, began to speed up, eventually fading from his line of vision. Walter, being out of shape could feel his lungs already straining, his feet feeling clumsier than usual.

Eventually he caught up to Derek.

Immediately his eyes squeezed shut at the sight, what he would have given to never see it again. Before them was Laura Hale's body, or what was left of it. Her eyes had faded to a milky white, wide, glazed over. She had died in horror judging by the way her mouth hung open, maggots and worms spilling over and making a feast of her gangrenous flesh. Her body had been angrily torn in half, ragged ropes of flesh hanging off the ends. Her rotting scent overpowering, making Walter's eyes water.

Derek stood frozen in his trepidation, his eyes glossing with fresh tears.

Whoever did this was fueled with hate, discarded of their moral compass.

Whoever did this was not human.

* * *

 **Thank you to those of you who read this chapter! It was more of a character introduction chapter. We'll be meeting Scott, Stiles, and Allison next chapter, and getting into the plot more :]**


	3. Chapter 3

**HI EVERYONE! Thank you so much for the kind reviews for the last chapter, your support means so much to me. Im glad you guys are enjoying this rewrite! Your reviews have given me so much encouragement, and I really want to take this story far and do my best with it :]**

 **\- shout out to Itbelongsinamuseum and Janedoee7, you two are amazing. Thank you xXBriannaXx with the spanish speaking parts! (so if any of that is wrong, go yell at her :] )**

 **\- This chapter takes place on the first day of school/ same as last chapter**

 **\- WHY DOESN'T THE OPTION TO BOLD WORDS WORK?**

* * *

-Stiles' POV-

"Where the hell are you, Scott?"

Stiles groaned beneath his breath, toe tapping impatiently on the concrete ground. It was just last night when the two were together, they decided to go out looking for the body in the woods. Nothing ever happened in the sleepy little town of Beacon Hills so when he overheard the reports on his completely illegal police radio, he had to go see it for himself. Of course that meant dragging his best friend and partner in crime with him. They were split up last night, and Stiles had yet to hear from Scott.

His attention was ripped from him at the sight of gorgeous strawberry blonde hair, belonging to the precious and perfect head of Lydia Martin. Stiles leaned on the pillar next to the steps leading to the school, admiring Lydia as she verbally ripped into a new girl by the bike racks. It was no secret Stiles had a crush on Lydia since the third grade, everyone seemed to know of this, except Lydia of course. Throughout the years Stiles' flame for Lydia began to dim as he accepted the fact that there was no way she would ever look in his general direction.

Yet admiring her from afar did no harm.

Stiles' eyes lit up as Lydia made her way towards him, his posture shot erect and alert. Every graceful step belonging to Lydia was surely meant for the catwalk, not to be held by the common plebs of Beacon Hills.

His face scrunched in confusion, the girl Lydia was ragging on earlier was approaching, hand in hand with Jackson Whittemore. His brows raised at the sight of her. Whoever she was, she certainly was pretty. Her features were soft, with what could be described as a heart shaped face and large doe eyes. She looked nicer than the type of girls Jackson usually toted around, the girl next door type.

Jackson and the New Girl walked their way up the steps, Lydia not too far behind. Stiles licked the bottom of his lip in anticipation. It was the first day of school, it was a time for clean slates and new beginnings. Speaking of new beginnings, it would start with Stiles actually talking to Lydia. Like a normal human...

He cleared his throat and put on his most charming smile. "Hey, Lydia."

His voice came off too high pitched, sounding like he had sprouted his first chest hair. Lydia kept on walking, simply unaware of his existence. Stiles was used to humiliation, in fact he was a cave troll who basked in constant unrelenting humiliation; but this was something else.

"That was pretty bad." Scott's voice piped in.

Stiles let out a groan and looked to his best friend who stood to the left of him, he was only ten minutes late.

"Where were you?" Stiles hissed in annoyance "You dropped off the face of the earth last night."

Scott's dark eyes darted side to side before lifting the hem of his shirt up, showing off his side which was properly bandaged. Stiles' eyes shot wide, hands lifting the shirt even farther to inspect the wound.

"Something bit me." Scott started " A wolf, I think."

He couldn't help but to snort with a dismissive laughter at Scott's preposterous thought. With a playful slap to the chest he said "Wolves haven't been in California in nearly sixty years."

His best friend shook his head in frustration "Look, it doesn't matter. I found the dead body last night."

Stiles jumped like a fourth of July firecracker shot out of his ass.

A mix of excitement and jealousy blossomed in his chest. His best friend had actually managed to find the body, while Stiles spent the night getting reprimanded by his father. Immediately he hooked his arm around his best friend's neck, pulling him in close.

"Tell me every gory detail."

* * *

Scott and Stiles entered their first class of the day, the two of them whispering about what happened last night. Scott being attacked by a wild animal, the body he happened to stumble upon. Stiles always had an undeniable curiosity when it came to detective work, in his mind he was already thinking of who the possible victim could be. The two of them arrived early to class, students just starting to file in in small clusters.

He had hoped Lydia would be in the class with him, the chances being pretty slim. But Stiles took the initiative to stretch his feet through the seat hole across from him, saving the blue plastic chair for Lydia Martin. Ensuring her a seat right in front of him.

To his dismay, Jonesy entered the classroom.

Jonesy Jones.

"Who the hell uses their last name as their first name?" Stiles thought to himself. It was **his** thing.

Jonesy was the type who was loved by all, and frankly Stiles didn't understand why. He was the kind with many friends, but specifically chose to stay away from the popular crowd. Probably to stay aloof and "alternative." And of course he plays the guitar, fronts a band, runs the yearbook committee and just happens to be the captain of the varsity wrestling team. Although, one would hardly ever see him with his Letterman jacket on. Once again, probably to stay aloof and "alternative". Stiles' eyes locked onto him, following Jonesy's always relaxed too cool for school gait. Maybe it was the way Jonesy carried himself, without a care in the world, maybe it was the fact he seemed so terribly average and plain yet people fawned to him like he were a messiah.

Right behind him was Jackson's girlfriend, of course Jonesy had already befriended the new girl.

She walked down Stiles' row. He held his breath while she cluelessly passed each seat in his row, coming closer and closer to Lydia's "reserved" seat. With a glance, she looked to Stiles' foot, saving the seat, then back at him. A wordless and kinder way of telling him to remove his foot. And so he did, not without reluctance. She sat just there, Jonesy sat to her right. Stiles' head rolled back in a dramatic dislike.

He leaned to his best friend, and in a low whisper asked "Who's the new girl."

Scott it seemed was in his own world, lost in a haze of admiration and curiosity. His dark coffee eyes planted on a brunette girl sitting outside in the courtyard. She was certainly pretty, Stiles could see why Scott was fawning over her. But now was not the time for that. Not when Stiles had a million questions at hand.

"Hey." Stiles elbowed his friend "Who is **that**." Stiles mouthed and tilted his head to the girl in front of him.

Scott narrowed his eyes on Stiles before scrawling on a pad of paper, and passing back.

"Nikita Grace" it said. "She went to our Elementary school, was Cora Hale's best friend."

The name rung a bell, Stiles was certain the two had a few classes back in the day. He knew of her father, Walter Grace, who had worked closely on a few cases with his father.

Finally, Lydia arrived, looking like Botticelli's Venus. She sat in front of Nikita, Stiles' vision of Lydia's beauty now tragically obscured. Stiles should have been thankful two gorgeous girls were seated in front of him. Yet, he let out a groan anyways. Jonesy had the audacity to turn around at the sound of his groan, shit-eating grin planted on his full lips. His sky blue eyes fell on Scott, the two of them always friendly to one another.

" Hola, Scott, come fue tu vacacion?"

"Of course try-hard speaks Spanish." Stiles thought to himself as he seethed in his seat, burning a death glare into Jonesy; who didn't take notice.

"Me la pase bien, y tu?" Scott replied with a friendly smile.

Stiles's eyes frantically ping-ponged between Scott and Jonesy, he didn't speak a lick of Spanish, understanding absolutely no part of their exchange. They were talking about him, they must have been talking about him. How did Jonesy always have the power to make him feel so small?

Jonesy's eyes lit with excitement. "Mas o menos, vas a ir a los tryouts pa'...lacrosse?

"We should really discuss last night." Stiles attempted to cut in and snatch Scott's attention back.

Scott nodded his head and responded to Jonesy. "Por supuesto que si."

Stiles let out a huff of air and sunk into his seat, defeated.

Jonesy's eyes landed on him for a moment, before turning his attention back to Scott. "Pues te deseo le mejor. Um, porque se mira como el stiles se cago un...pinecone?

Scott let out a soft chuckle, patting Stiles' shoulder in solidarity. "Le dije que no se le comiera.

With that, Jonesy turned around to finally mind his own business, done with the brief conversation.

"You know I can't stand him." Stiles said in a harsh whisper, his left brow twitching with a muscle spasm.

Scott let out a small laugh and looked to him with a tired expression, for they have had this conversation many times before. undoubtedly, it would not be the last time.

" You only hate him because he brought in double the profits than you with the bake sale."

Stiles' hands swiped through the air in pure frustration. Lowering his voice even more. "His mother owns a bakery! It's cheating. You don't get to drop shop, peddle cupcakes, and bring in revenue like that to a bake sale."

Maybe a drug analogy was a tad dramatic, til this day Stiles would never forget about the bake sale. "And red velvet? Red velvet is so overrated, it's not even a thing. It's just chocolate cake dyed red."

"Stiles, your brownies were store bought, and you managed to drop half of them...mine had hair on it."

His eyes narrowed on Jonesy, whose shoulders rose and fell with laughter, clearly he had heard the exchange and found it to be hysterical. That's when the restlessness began. He couldn't help the little twitches, the jitters, and bouncing his knee; his way of coping with his frustrations. Stiles' knee must have been shaking vigorously, for Nikita turned around to stare at him.

"Hey uh, you're sort of shaking my seat." She pointed out, friendly smile on her face, single dimple on her right cheek.

Stiles' eyes stayed glued on her, She was far from the girl he vaguely remembered with the frizzy hair and mouth full of metal, clearly Nikita had blossomed out of her awkward phase and possessed a beauty all of her own. Without knowing it, his knee kept bouncing as he openly admired her face, effectively creeping her out.

Her bold brows pinched together at the bridge with irritation. Nikita was at the end of her rope, and generally didn't take a liking when people stared at her. Just like that, any discretion she had flew out the window. "Alright, you need to stop crushing Ritalin and snorting it like you're Pablo Escobar."

Stiles physically recoiled back into his seat, the heat of humiliation washed over his features, the tips of his ears burning red. Jonesy even turned around with his brows riding up and mouthed the words "oh shit." only to add insult to injury. Stiles' mouth left open, her short sharp verbal lashing leaving him at a loss of words. He had been thrown off by her big brown Bambi eyes, how could someone with such doe-eyes fling a fiery insult like that?

"...It's Adderal actually." Was all he could say.

Stiles didn't even get a chance to redeem himself with a witty sarcastic comeback when Lydia turned around. " Nikita, stop talking to him. We need to discuss your party."

Nikita gave Stiles one more sharp glance of warning before turning to face the front.

* * *

 **-Nikita's POV-**

Nikita couldn't help but to stretch her neck towards the sun, like a sunflower reaching for light. She sat craving sunshine like it was the last good thing in this world. Perhaps it was. It didn't take much to keep her mood up, she only asked for the rays to come out once in awhile, wash its warmth over her, give her a taste of home. This cramped up town was still bleak as ever. A cloak of delicate fog and mist had draped itself over Beacon Hills, and Nikita was starting to worry that it would never lift. What she would give to ditch her thick coats and leggings for a tank top and a pair of shorts. Like a cat post she was covered in suffocating scratchy material from head to toe.

She sat alongside Lydia and Danny at the top of the bleachers, getting ready to watch Lacrosse tryouts. Lydia was beaming with uncontainable excitement, while Danny silently re-laced his lacrosse net. Nikita, somewhat less enthused, lacrosse was nowhere as exciting as basketball or even football, yet she was here to support her boyfriend anyways.

The long thin delicate silver chain of her necklace wrapped tightly around her index finger, turning it blue. The necklace she wore so proudly was a matching set to her once best friend, Cora Hale. She still wore it every day, religiously, like a nun clutching to her rosary. The necklace had become a part of her, another limb to her body, she was never without it. Nikita wore it to honor Cora, to honor the family, and the memories she cherished.

When she was just seven, Walter had gifted the two girls with the matching Tiffany's heart necklaces. their initials carved with fine delicacy, **NGCH**. Truth be told, it was one of the few decent things Walter had done.

"You're going to cut your circulation like that."

Nikita looked up to see Jackson, standing like a stoic billboard Abercrombie model in his red lacrosse uniform. She greeted him with a kind smile, relieved to see his face after a long day with Lydia Martin.

"Free me." She mouthed in a dramatic fashion.

Jackson plopped down next to her, placing his helmet on his lap and a peck on her cheek. "That bad?"

Wordlessly she scooted closer to her boyfriend, farther from Lydia and rested her head on his shoulder. Guilt always found a way to crawl back into her thoughts, even during contempt moments with Jackson just like this. Jackson started as a tool used to anger her father, classic attention seeking rebellion by dating the boy with a fast flashy sports car, and a dodgey reputation. Nikita didn't want to admit that she was using Jackson, to fill an empty shallow hole in her life, to metaphorically stick a middle finger in her father's face. With more days that had gone by he had grown on her, she was beginning to see his decent and even at times vulnerable side.

Nikita's eyes cut across the field to see Jonesy heading towards the gym, dressed in his bright red wrestling get up. She had no idea her classmate was into wrestling, in fact she didn't know nearly enough about him. He seemed to know much about her, that stupid photo of her in the second grade included. Her lack of knowledge on him left her mystified, Jonesy clearly knew how to keep people on their toes.

"What do you guys know about Jonesy?" Nikita asked the other three aloud with far too much curiosity.

Although her eyes were on Jonesy, following him across the blacktop, she could feel the other three staring at her with question. Without having to look, she knew Jackson was feeling rather peeved from where he sat.

"That guy? Can't stand him." Jackson spoke with such venom, Nikita was beginning to question what had happened between him and Jonesy.

"Did he murder your family or something? Happen to look at your Porsche the wrong way?" She asked in a partially serious tone. No really, she wanted to know where the animosity was coming from. There had to be something off about Jonesy, no way someone could be so chipper and sly at the same time.

Jackson only let out a chortle of laughter, ignoring her comment.

"You only hate him because he pulverized you in wrestling. Which is why he's the captain." Danny's tongue giving Jackson a brutal lashing.

Nikita sucked in the crisp air sharply between her clenched teeth. Both her and Lydia looked to Danny wide eyed in surprise and back at Jackson, waiting on his rebuttal. Maybe it wasn't such a smart idea to bring Jonesy up.

"Shut up." Jackson fumed towards his best and possibly only friend. His thumbs pressed firmly on either side of the helmet on his lap as if they could crush through the protective shell. "You only like him because you think he's fine."

Nikita's fingers went to her necklace, pulling the silver heart back and forth, sawing it across the chain. She didn't mean to stir the pot, it was only an innocent question that had spiraled into a fireball of a shit storm. Admittedly this was already much more entertaining than the lacrosse practice that had yet to start.

"If you were into guys, you would too." Danny continued, caught in deep admiration as the dark haired athlete disappeared into the gym.

"You're not his type." Lydia interrupted Danny's love daze. "He's into girls." She said, pulling down her tortoise shelled sunglasses to look Danny in the eyes to show him she was dead serious.

Nikita shook her head and intervened before the conversation could go any further. "Whoa, I don't remember asking about his dating life, I just want-"

"He's not straight." Danny cut in so matter of factly. With a hard tug he pulled the laces of his lacrosse net, tightening them in place. "I'm pretty sure he came out to his parents and a few friends last year."

"He had a girlfriend last year." The red-head continued. " Remember that blonde cheerleader from Devonford Prep?"

She let out a puff of air. Without meaning to Nikita single-handedly opened a public forum debate on Jonesy's sexuality and love life. Lydia and Danny enjoyed to gossip from time to time, but discussing someone else's private life, observing them on a microscopic level didn't feel right. A subject change was much needed, Lydia and Danny were too deep into their conversation. Jackson, silent on the matter, putting all his focus on the field, possibly dwelling on lacrosse plays and strategies.

Finally after listening to the bickerying he let out an irritated sigh and got up to his feet, holding his helmet in hand. "It's really not that hard to figure out guys, he's into both girls and guys."

Nikita's brow arched up.

Jackson descended the bleachers in a hurry to meet his other teammates and Coach without saying goodbye to her. His dismissive nature left Nikita wordless, wondering if he was aggravated with her for even bringing up Jonesy's name. Danny looked to Lydia with a smug grin, his silent way of establishing his win, to which she rolled her eyes.

"I'm jonesing for some Jonesy." Danny teased with a playful wink before joining Jackson.

She couldn't help but to let out a chuckle over Danny's statement, to which Lydia threw her a sharp look. There it was, the infamous Lydia Martin daggered stare, god help the poor bastard on the receiving end of that glare. It was like satan spearing a helpless victim with an ice shard. Nikita let out a huff of air, already aware of what Lydia was about to say.

"You already have a boyfriend, you know." Lydia didn't bother to even look at her, her gaze heavily set on Jackson's every move.

"It was just a question, Lydia…"

"I'm just saying, if Jackson was my boyfriend I wouldn't be asking about other guys."

How she wanted to grab Lydia's face, squish it, and loudly remind her that Jackson wasn't her boyfriend.

The lacrosse field filled with players, all circling around Coach Finnstock. Right away she spotted the Ritalin-heathen from earlier. Seth. Stiles. Whatever. He was a jittery sort of fellow, a rubber ball bouncing off the walls of a cramped room. Nikita made a mental note to avoid that mess.

Lydia pulled out her nail file and grabbed Nikita's left hand, distracting her from Stiles. Her face soured at the sight of Nikita's chipped blue metallic nail polish, the remnants of charcoal trapped beneath her nails. Nikita couldn't help but to smile as Lydia internally wept over her unmanicured nails.

"Art student." Nikita reminded her with a bounce of her shoulders and a smug smile.

"Homeless person." Lydia retorted flatly.

Hope came to Nikita yet again in the form of a brunette girl with large mocha brown eyes. Nikita recognized her right away, the two shared a few classes. She walked up to the top of the bleacher with a large smile, clutching nervously to her book bag.

"Nikita, this." Lydia pointed with her nail file towards the new girl. "Is Allison Argent, transplant from San Francisco."

"Welcome to hell." Nikita quipped with a playful wiggle of her eyebrows, as Lydia continued on with her nails.

Lydia didn't even bother looking up from her work. "Nikita!"

"I mean, welcome to Beacon Hills."

Allison seemed unbothered by Nikita's dark humor, even choosing to sit next to her.

"I agree, it's a little bleak here, especially compared to San Francisco." She lamented, her smile had yet to weaken. "Although the woods are really pretty, so there's that."

Lydia stopped filing Nikita's nails to give Allison a dead serious gaze." You don't want to go in the woods. It's haunted."

Fear was a disease, and at her very words Lydia was unknowingly spreading that fear to Allison, who now looked uneasy. Lydia's words meant nothing to Nikita. She did not fear the woods, in fact she embraced the wilderness. The only good part of this sleepy little town. She knew the preserves like the back of her hand, a map of her favorite playground forever engraved in her brain. A devious smile pulled on her lips. As selfish as it seemed, people fearing the woods meant she would have it all to herself, solitude and peace unsullied by the obnoxious ways of strangers.

"It sure is." Nikita chimed in.

Skeptical, Allison's eyes narrowed on the two of them. "...How?"

It fell silent upon the three of them, even with Coach Finnstock's erratic whistleblowing going off every few seconds. Lydia leaned in close, brows meeting at the bridge of her nose. And her voice dropped low.

"Well...there's Suicide Hill. I don't think I need to elaborate with a name like that..."

Nikita nodded in agreement, finding it excruciatingly hard to hide her smile, so she hid it with the sleeve of her denim jacket.

Suicide Hill had been a town urban legend since she was a little girl, an urban legend she knew not to be true. In the middle of the preserves was a rather large hill, it's drop off so steep and high that it could supposedly kill you. It was rumored that the bottom of the hill was littered with the decaying remains and sun bleached bones of those who were lucky to die upon impact. And those less fortunate, those who had somehow manage to survive, lived the remainder of their sad lives in wheelchairs or hospital beds. Forever cursed with their decision, forever cursed to a pained and solitary life. It was all a load of crock, a fictitious story to make sure people didn't wander off the jogging path that ran through the woods. In all her years Nikita never heard of anyone attempting to take their lives at the edge of Suicide Hill. She had seen the hill many times before in her life, her and Cora playing games to see who could reach furthest to the edge before chickening out. She could confirm, there were no dead bodies or old dirt crusted bones at the base of the hill, yet she wanted to see how far Lydia would take this.

Allison remained unmoved, not buying one bit into any of it.

"And then there's Cora Hale's ghost." Lydia went on.

Nikita froze, no longer wearing her self satisfied smile. Every inch of her flesh riddled with goosebumps. Hearing others speak of Cora's name tended to do that to her, breathing life back into a hurt that would never heal.

"I've heard that name before." Allison pointed out, more interested in this story rather than Suicide Hill.

"A girl who would have been our age." Lydia started her campfire ghost story.

"What happened to her?" Nikita foolishly asked, finding it rather hard to steady her voice.

She should have remained ignorant, knowing she wouldn't like what she was about to hear. Nikita needed to know, she needed to know what they spoke of Cora now, what they spoke of the Hale family. She needed to know how far from truth the stories were.

"Her older brother, a complete loner, started a fire in their family home and barred all the doors shut. It was out of pure lunacy, or was it family rivalry?" Lydia asked, pressing a finger to her cherry glossed lips, deep in thought.

Derek, she was speaking of Derek.

"Cora died in the fire, along with her family. It's been said she haunts the woods, in search of her brother. And if some poor idiot comes across her, she'll burn them alive with just a look of her eye."

Allison's head tilted to the side "He's out there, free?"

Lydia shrugged her shoulders and went back to filing Nikita's nails. "He pleaded to insanity"

Allison was smart enough to see through the holes of the story. "That's now how the justice system works…"

"Obviously. It's just a story, Allison." Lydia reminded her.

Nikita felt sick to her stomach. Her mouth bitter and dry, holding her back from spewing words of deep hate. Her fingers had curled to fists, nails biting crescent marks into the tender flesh of her palms. She breathed in deep, to exhale from her nostrils. Allison's hand gently capped her shoulder, giving it a slight shake. Lydia's exaggerated story echoed over and over. The redhead had no clue her and Cora were the best of friends, she didn't mean offense. Even still, Nikita wanted to shout and scream at her, throttle her. How could Lydia be so ignorant? How could this whole town be ignorant? Her once best friend's legacy and reputation had now been reduced to a disgusting small town urban legend. Not only that, it painted Derek to be a killer, Derek a gentle and sweet soul who she loved like he were her brother. Suicide Hill, Cora's ghost, none of that was real.

The disrespect angered Nikita, as well as broke her heart.

"Are you okay?" Everything about Allison was so gentle, even the sound of her voice. "I doubt any of the ghost stuff is true."

Nikita was calling it quits on the day.

She sprung to her feet and grabbed her bookbag. It was unfortunate leaving Allison with a ruthless snake like Lydia. She had to get out of there. With haste she made her way down the bleachers.

Lydia stood up, hollowing her hands to shout "It's just a story! Try outs aren't even over yet!"

* * *

-Jackson's POV-

Practice had ended an hour ago, and Jackson's ego was terribly bruised. His reputation delicately dangling by a thread. Scott McCall had somehow managed to sneak a goal past him. Jackson, Captain of the lacrosse team, was known to be a brick wall. Nothing and no one ever got past him. He wore the title of best defensive player in the County. And now he had been bested by some scrawny possibly pre-pubescent second stringer. To add insult to injury, his girlfriend didn't bother to sit and watch the entire tryout. The situation left Jackson heated, where even his best friend, Danny, couldn't cheer him up.

It was empty in the locker room, not a soul around...Except for him, and Jonesy. He watched the tall athlete, who was unaware of Jackson's presence. Or if he was...he seemingly didn't care. Jonesy always had that easy-going demeanor to him. The world could be on fire, and Jonesy would be found somewhere listening to good music and sipping on stiff drinks. Jackson always envied and loathed that about him. Everything seemed to come easily to him, athletics, academics, popularity; while Jackson had to fight to gain any recognition.

The two were enveloped in silence, save for the constant drip of the shower head and the subtle sounds of the overhead fan cutting swiftly through the air. Jackson's fingers tightened around the edge of the locker as he peered around it, getting a better look at Jonesy who stood shirtless, adjusting the buckle to his belt. He must have just hopped out of the shower, his dark brown hair almost a black plastered to his face. Jackson's eyes fixated on a droplet of water resting on the wrestler's fair skin, watching as it gracefully rolled down the valley of his muscular back. Jackson's tongue ran along the edge of his bottom lip, fighting the urge to taste the salt on Jonesy's skin. How his body glistened masterfully, even under the dimmed fluorescent lights.

The confliction in which Jackson felt was similar to a raging sea, desire and disgust, clashing and fighting each other. Jackson pulled in his bottom lip and squeezed shut his eyes, taking a deep inhale from his nostrils. This was wrong, Jackson only enjoyed the company of females, not pale lean boys with radiant blue eyes.

"The staring is getting a bit creepy." Jonesy's voice echoed in the empty locker room, he had yet to turn around, or officially acknowledge his presence. Like Jackson thought, Jonesy simply didn't care.

Just as Jonesy turned around Jackson crossed over to him in three long strides and pushed the taller teen against the locker. The back of his head hit the metal, causing his thick brows to come together and look to Jackson with question. One hand pressed firmly against the wrestler's right shoulder, pinning him in place, the other cupped the back of Jonesy's head, pulling the tall teenager to his level. Without allowing Jonesy to utter a single word Jackson's lips met his with a fervor, his appetite for those full lips were indescribable, he had been starved for much too long. It had nearly been half a year since Jonesy had last taken him, he needed Jonesy inside of him. Jackson broke from the kiss, only to place his lips on the base of the dark haired teen's neck, slowly working his way down. His hands trembled feverishly as they worked at unbuckling Jonesy's belt, getting closer and closer to what he truly wanted.

"What are you doing?" Jonesy's voice flat and unimpressed.

"I want this. I want it now." Jackson's rushed words muffled, his lips pressed against the creamy skin of Jonesy's chest. His tongue darted out, allowing himself just a taste. Jackson inhaled Jonesy's intoxicating clean soapy smell. The mere touch of him, the heat radiating off his body, the feel of him, driving him wild.

Jackson knew what he wanted, and he always got what he wanted one way or another. With a swift yank he pulled off Jonesy's belt, letting it carelessly fall to the floor. Before he could even work at the buttons he was shoved back.

"What the hell, Jonesy?" He couldn't help but to snap, his sexual frustration at its peak.

Jonesy shook his head in disagreement, the expression on his face hardening with annoyance.

"We can't mess around anymore, you know that."

Jackson's hand snaked through his hair, raking at his scalp. And just like that he started pacing back and forth. It wasn't often when someone would deny him from what he wanted.

"Why the hell not?"

He and Jonesy were never a thing or romance, not even friends with benefits. They would meet behind the bleachers and casually have sex, and on some special occasions Jonesy would find himself in his bed. It was pure fun, and nothing more. The captain of the wrestling team meeting with the captain of the lacrosse team.

They were each other's best kept secret.

Jackson's favorite secret.

It all started after Jonesy broke up with his then girlfriend, and Jackson didn't feel like being tied to a two were hardly even acquaintances when he boldly made the first move and Jackson eagerly reciprocated. Their romp-around lasted only three months, when Jonesy got sick of Jackson's constant state of denial and excuses. Two months later Jackson found himself with Nikita.

Jackson never felt the need to defend himself, he was fully and only attracted to females, not men. He loved everything about females: their sweet scent, their soft skin, their giggles, their bodies, the way they dressed.

Yet Jonesy knew how to make him feel good, Jonesy knew how to make him moan.

After picking up his belt from the floor, Jonesy put on his Sonic Youth shirt, covering his body, to which Jackson let out a groan. "You have a girlfriend, Nikita, or have you forgotten?"

Of course...how could he forget.

When he first laid eyes on Nikita, back in the summertime, he thought of her as the gorgeous wholesome girl next door. She had just lost her mother then, so vulnerable, Jackson easily swooped in to be her knight in shining armor. Granted, Jackson would never go for a girl like her, not usually. He had come to the point in his life where he was sick of dating the same prototypical popular girl with a stuck up attitude. He thought Nikita would be different. But over time, she became more cynical, stuck up, and hard to love. Making it clear she didn't want to be here. Often he wondered if it was him who made her so bitter. Jackson had pretended to not notice Lydia's heavy flirtations before Nikita, he was starting to regret that now.

" **Her**?" Jackson threw his hands to the air in pure frustration. "Since when do you have standards?"

Jonesy's head tilted to the side, a smirk pulled on his full lips. "I had no standards, seeing how I fucked you." And with a shrug he said " but hey, people can change. That means there's still hope for you."

His eyes narrowed on Jonesy, incredulous at the snarky comment. No one could get away with talking to him like that, no one except Jonesy. He couldn't help but to clench his jaw.

"Are you defending her?"

" Nikita is a nice girl, has a personality, something you lack." Jonesy crossed his arms and casually leaned his back against the locker. "And to be frank, she deserves better."

"She doesn't put out!" Jackson wanted to scream and pull his hair out. "I get nothing from her. No sex, no blow jobs, not even a good old fashioned hand job."

"Your poor dick." Jonesy mused, making no effort to hide his satisfied smile.

"I'm glad you think this is hilarious."

Without missing a beat Jonesy said "you know me so well."

Jackson held three fingers in the air, wagging it in Jonesy's face. "It's been three months, three months!"

Jonesy snorted a laugh. "Probably because you're a shit boyfriend and she doesn't trust you."

" What does sex have to do with trust?" Jackson spat.

His ridiculous question caused Jonesy's head to roll back, and stare at the ceiling. "You're dumb as a rock, Jackson, I don't know what to tell you."

Jackson watched with reluctance as Jonesy slung his backpack over his shoulder, his free hand running a towel over his wet hair. A blanket of silence casted upon them once more, Jackson too angry to continue on with the conversation. Nothing seemed to be going his way today. The dark haired teenager pushed past Jackson, without even gracing him with the simplicity of eye contact. Jonesy headed towards the door, but not before stopping in his tracks.

"Jackson, I know you prefer being on your knees, but you can't pray the gay away."

"I'm not gay!" Jackson cried out with an unrelenting rage before taking a swing at a poor defenseless locker, his fist denting the red door.

* * *

 **-Nikita's POV-**

Pink polished nails tapped in an irritating off beat rhythm on the arm of the chair. A rich dichotomy to the ticking clock staring back at her. Her anger from earlier had simmered now that she was far from Lydia's loud mouth.

Nikita sat half sunken in the plush leather office seat, across her father's work desk. Waiting in silence for Walter to show up. She had been here for ten minutes now. They had casted her aside in his office like a petulant child, contained and made sure not to wander off. Already Nikita was bored. Letting out a sharp puff of air, she carefully watched a streak of her chestnut hair fly up and fall down. Another huff of air, this game could only keep her entertained for so long.

Most of her days had been long and mundane, even in the company of shitty-urban-legend-slinger Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore. Lydia's penultimate idea of fun was watching Lacrosse practice, and Jackson's was to continuously watch his previous plays over and over again.

To be blunt she found no joy in watching her boyfriend frolic on the field with a butterfly net.

A single picture frame sat on Walter's oak desk. The edges ornate and silver, the black velvet backing facing her. She let out an irritated groan, already knowing which photo sat inside the frame. It was her second grade photo where her two front teeth were missing and she wore uneven pigtails. Of all pictures Walter could have used to decorate his office, it just had to be that one.

The one Jonesy teased her with.

Nikita reached across her father's desk to pull out a large yellow envelope from underneath a stack of papers. Eager to see what sort of distraction she could find. Surely, she was not meant to touch such confidential documents belonging to her father and the Beacon Hills Hospital. Surely, she decided, she did not care. Nikita needed something to soothe her restless and curious nature. Carefully she opened the envelope to find X-rays. Now this had potential to hold her over for a few minutes. She held the black flimsy film to the too bright fluorescents above her, rich hazel eyes sparkling with a childlike eagerness.

"Ohoho." Nikita let out a half chuckle upon inspecting the X-ray.

The image of a human skull illuminated before her, the back of the skull darkened to a void, a nothingness. Nikita's eyes transfixed on the deep fracture, most likely caused from a blunt force trauma, an impact impact of sorts. Her hazel eyes penetrated deep into the blackness so that she couldn't see through to the other side of the transparent film. The slow hollow feeling of dread crept up on her, no longer did Nikita find the X-rays to be amusing. In fact it was a bit disturbing. With a sigh she slid the X-rays back in the envelope, neatly placing it back on Walter's desk.

Nothing seemed to cure her boredom apart from her snooping around. Her eyes remained on the door to keep watch. With a ghost like silence she walked around Walter's desk, her hands wandering into the drawers; blindly feeling around. Truth be told her nonsensical search wasn't about curing her boredom. No. Her boredom was an expertly placed facade to the knots twisting violently in the pit of her stomach. Nikita was only fooling herself to lift the suffocating feeling of anxiety.

Any moment now, Walter would come through the door, and together they would go downstairs to the long term care floor, where she would finally see Peter Hale for the first time since the fire.

Seeing him was her idea.

Guilt had been weighing down on Nikita like a bundle of bricks since she stepped foot in Beacon Hills. Peter Hale had been an important figure in her life growing up, one of the few she looked up to. Months had passed, and yet she couldn't find the heart to face him, afraid of what she might see. Nikita never thought herself to be made of courage, but this was something that had to be done.

"C'mon, Walter. I know you have something good." Nikita whispered low and cautiously.

Finally she found what she was looking for. Nikita held the orange pill bottle tight and firm in her grip, feeling the plastic bend beneath her fingers. The slight pressure popped the lid open, white pills waiting inside. She looked to the label, eyebrows meeting together as she attempted to read the name out loud.

Phenyltoloxamine.

Nikita's nose scrunched in confusion " I really hope that's not a fancy name for Viagra."

The prescribed medicine was under no one's name, safe to assume Walter kept it around for his patients. With a shrug she tilted the bottle towards her mouth, a small white pill sliding onto her tongue. She swallowed, finding it to be dry and bitter. Maybe this wasn't the best idea.

Her body tensed at the sound of footsteps, Walter walking down the hall, towards his office. She quickly shoved the bottle back in the desk drawer and slumped herself in the office chair, as if nothing had happened.

Walter opened the door, a placid weak smile plastered on his face. It had been years since she had seen him in his white coat, the powder blue of his scrubs peaking from beneath. Her father was one of the most respected and well distinguished men in Beacon Hills, with an impeccably Low mortality rate. Patients knew they were in good hands when it came to Walter Grace and Brody Jones.

With a friendly wink, he asked " Ready to go?"

Whatever she had taken moments ago had yet to kick in. Nikita wasn't ready, but it was now or never. She followed behind her father, listening to the soft squeaks of her rubber soles kissing the white laminate floor. Nikita's fingers tightened around the strap of her book bag, each step feeling sluggish and heavy. This walk almost seemed to be never ending. The two waited in silence inside the elevator, save for the awful elevator music rendition of "My Heart Will Go On."

"There's nothing to be afraid of." Walter started, deep voice cutting through the silence.

"I'm not scared-" Nikita piped in, betrayed by the slight trembles rolling through her body.

The elevator finally opened, and she could feel the shakiness in her hands increase. When were those damn pills going to kick in? Maybe she should have taken two. Walter opened the door to Peter's room, giving her another soft smile, as though telling her it was going to be alright. Nikita gathered whatever courage she could scrounge and nearly barged in on clumsy feet. She was in Peter's room now. The sharp scent of Clorox wafted around her, making her feel light headed, or was it the Phenyltoloxamine?

There he sat before her, comfortable in a deep maroon arm chair, facing the television as it played soap opera reruns. She could only see the back of his head and how it leaned limply to the right, as if it were heavy to hold up. Nikita looked to Walter one last time hoping he would stay with her. Yet, he was a head surgeon, many people needed him, there were more pressing matters to be concerned over. Walter closed the door and headed out.

It was just her and Peter now...

Nikita took in a breath before crossing the hospital room, eyes glued to Peter. Slowly he came into view as she walked towards the seat across from him. It felt as though a bowling ball had dropped into the pit of her stomach. Her gut churned and twisted at the mere sight of him. Walter had warned her prior to going in, yet it still came as a shock to her. Nikita hardly recognized the man draped with a grey scratchy blanket before her. She remembered his once youthful appearance, now marred by red angry blisters, third degree burns running down the side of his face. The pores of his skin had dissolved, leaving his skin to look slick and leather-like. She could hear his soft labored breathing, every breath a struggle.

It was unsettling. Nikita wanted to cry just thinking of the pain he must have gone through, the current pain Peter was in now. The frightful girl wanted to speak to him, unsure of what to say, unsure of where to start. She peered into those deep solemn oceanic eyes, finding it easier to look into them, rather than his face.

Right away Peter's eyes locked onto Nikita's like magnets. A sharp breath hitched in the back of her breath, startled by the sure sign of Peter's coherence. All it took was his half-lidded stare to raise the fine hairs on the back of her neck. Did Peter recognize Nikita? The idea of Peter's recognition of Nikita should have been a joyous thought, yet here she sat feeling bothered. His hollow gaze making her shift in her seat. Peter's eyes weren't peering through her, they were dead set on Nikita. Eyes that were dull and devoid of all emotion. That raw spark of enthusiasm and intelligence Peter used to possess had gone lackluster. She began to wonder if there was anyone behind those steely cobalt eyes. Peter was no more, his body a mere vessel used to carry the bright man that once was.

Nikita pulled her legs up in the seat, sitting in a criss cross position. The effects of the pill were starting to seep in. Every muscle in her body began to uncoil and relax, a pleasant heat fanning from beneath her skin. Her vision slightly hazy, yet sweet like a dream. The most gorgeous rush of serenity came to her, as the pharmaceutical chemicals swam freely through her veins. Any tension Nikita had felt rolled off her shoulders.

She was now able to look Peter in the eyes without feeling an ounce of fear.

Even after the many years that had passed, her fondness for him remained ignited. Nikita remembered how much he had cared for her and Cora when they were children. He would spend time with them, color with them, take them out for ice cream, spoiled them any chance he got. It was Peter who had taught her to never take no as an answer, it was Peter who indulged in her curious nature and taught her it was important to explore and expand the mind.

"It's me." Nikita started, finger wrapping firmly around the heart of her necklace, thumb rubbing against the NGCH initials. " your Kiki."

His nickname for her.

She cleared her throat, finally feeling brave enough to speak. "I'm sorry it took me so long to visit you. Not sure if it matters, but I still think of you, and I still think of-"

Nikita's fingers snaked through her long dark chestnut hair. Maybe speaking on such heavy matters wasn't the best idea. There were many things Nikita wished she could have spoke of, happy memories spent with the Hale family, her mother. Oh god how she wanted to speak about her mother, and how much she missed her. Nikita had no one to open up about when it came to that fragile subject, or anything for that matter. Walter simply wasn't an option. Peter didn't deserve to be subjected to her past, Nikita's mother was her pain to bear. And Peter's constant pain was enough of a reminder to him.

Yet, Nikita couldn't help it " I miss her, I miss my mom."

The words weren't meant to escape her, but they slipped out of the floodgates so effortlessly. Nikita's fingers dug into the plush arm of the chair. For without even speaking her mother's name...she could feel a lump rising in the back of her throat.

Peter remained still.

Nikita inhaled deeply before starting again. "I want to go back, Peter. I want to go back to when everyone was alive. I want my mother, I want Cora, I want-"

Her words came to a stop at the sight of Peter. All his features remained still, much the same as before, but his eyes...they glazed over with fresh tears. And it absolutely crushed Nikita.

"Shit." She thought to herself.

Like a bull in china shop she had shown up and disrupted Peter's peace and tore through possible years of therapy. Nikita had done enough damage in fifteen minutes, possibly less. She didn't mean to drag Peter in and drown him in her own self pity. Guilt, her familiar friend was back at it again. It was her first instinct to get the hell out of there, grab her backpack and just go. She simply couldn't, leave Peter with tarnished memories, or find herself too embarrassed to come back. Nikita gladly accepted the idea of a subject change.

"My first day of school was today!" She didn't mean to come off so forcibly chipper, but the too-difficult-to-pronounce medication was really starting to kick in.

"I've made some friends, sort of. And I have a boyfriend, sort of." Nikita continued with a snort of laughter. "He likes his car way more than he likes me though."

Peter blinked slowly, a response to her presence, a sure sign of him liking the conversation. As if encouraging Nikita to go on.

"You don't want to hear about Jackson." Nikita swatted the air with impatience. "He'll make you want to tear your hair out, but not as frustrating as Lydia!"

Nikita's excitement and upbeat ways shifted the energy surrounding them, suddenly the hospital room didn't feel so dreary and intimidating anymore.

"I'm telling you this girl is smarter than she leads on, and nobody knows it!" Nikita sat at the edge of her seat, smile on her face like she was sharing the most riveting tale. "If you look at her bookshelf you'll find Paz, Nietzsche, Gladwell, and Montaigne. What supposedly average teenage girl finds pleasure in reading Montaigne?"

Peter graced her with yet another slow blink, the corner of his lip struggling to hitch up.

"She's so darn frustrating with her designer this, designer that, forcing me into high heels any chance she gets. Lydia has her decent moments when she isn't spewing rumors, but they're so rare."

Even though he spoke no words and showed only the faintest of understanding, Nikita knew exactly what Peter would have told her. What he always instilled in her and Cora time after time, intelligence and independence. "No girl should ever have to hide her smarts in hopes of attracting another person. For that other person is most likely a dumbass."

Nikita sunk into her seat, a dopey smile appeared on her face recalling the sage advice Peter used to hand down to her. "Try outs for Track and Field is tomorrow. Cross country and track is my thing, I'll smoke them out of the water."

Peter always loved when her self confidence beamed like the sun.

Her pink stained lips curled into a cheeky smile. "What? You know it's true. I'll make sure to wave at all the slow fools as I pass them b-"

All words ceased to form a coherent sentence when the television switched programs, a breaking news update. The urgency in the news anchors voice caused Peter's eyes to tear away from her and plant itself to the television, Nikita craned her neck to have a look as well. A girl with dark brown hair and a half smile was displayed on the screen with the words 'missing' in a large bold font at the bottom. Nikita peered into the brown eyes illuminated on the screen, friendly brown eyes which she had gazed into hundreds of times before. Nikita couldn't place her finger on it, where had she seen the girl before? The name was on the tip of her tongue, if only she could remember. Her brows met together, studying the face of the missing victim.

"A body was found on the south end of the Beacon Hills Preserves." The news anchor started, his voice remorseful. " Officials believe the body is Laura Hale, a Beacon Hills native who has been missing since Tuesday."

An audible gasp escaped her, already she found it too hard to breathe. Laura, who she had grown up with, possibly butchered in the middle of the woods in which Nikita ran through daily. She squeezed her eyes shut, her mind wandering to Cora's ghost. No, she couldn't go back to nonsensical thoughts. Absolute mortification and an unpronounceable drowsy inducing pill made the perfect cocktail for nausea. Beads of sweat specked her forehead, heat washing over her, suddenly she felt weak.

"I should." Nikita started, convinced if she were to open her mouth she would throw up. Wordlessly and calmly she got up, grabbing her bag. With one last look over her shoulder she peered at him, his eyes still on the television.

"I'm sorry, I just-" She managed to mutter before leaving the recovery room.

* * *

\- For Jonesy and Scott's exchange in Spanish: Jonesy is asking how Scott's summer went, and asks him if he's trying out for Lacrosse, later he asks him why Stiles looks like he swallowed a pinecone.

Ayyyyyyyy let me know what you thought of this chapter, I honestly had fun writing it :]

I have to slow my roll with updating so frequently, I'm just so excited to share with you all and I have poor impulse control.

I promise next chapter is the party chapter, THERE MUST ALWAYS BE A PARTY CHAPTER!


	4. Chapter 4

HELLO EVERYONE!

Thank you thank you thank you for the reviews, it means the world to me you guys have no clue how important your feed back is. Actually you do, seeing how most of you write and know it fuels inspiration. You guys have been so amazing and supportive. Huge thanks to: Allybz, Ferallahey, Wild-stdream, ITBELONGSINAMUSEUM, Ms. Fortunate, Silent C , SusieSamurai, BRISITA, Aflourescentadolescent, KisaaGeckos, Wildrecklessyouthinme, Maddie Rose, The Chosen Pen, January Lily, Lionheartmisfit, and Booksbeneaththebed. You are all so incredibly talented, with such amazing stories. It's an honor to be receive reviews from you guys :]

* * *

"Maybe you should take off the sunglasses." Walter's untamed eagerness causing his voice to jump an octave. It should have embarrassed him, but he didn't mind.

He stood in the driveway wearing only his powder blue scrubs, an oversized mug of black coffee - his life fuel- held firmly in his left hand. The streets were relatively empty, folks still stirring in their sleep just before getting up for work and school. It was rare getting days like this, where he could show up to work after sunrise. Walter's hectic schedule kept him from spending any real quality time with his daughter. Small moments such as these were never taken for granted.

Nikita had finally decided to drive her white Mini Cooper car. It was a gift he bought for her first day of school, which his daughter specifically and purposely decided not to drive until today. Another one of her many ways of keeping her impenetrable walls high, at this rate he would never be let in. Today, however, was a vast improvement. Maybe she was finally softening to him, or maybe she was sick of using her bike. Either way, Walter was more than humble for the sliver of hope.

Nikita sat in her new car, windows down, all her attention on toggling the radio stations rather than Walter. She hadn't really shown the excitement he was hoping a teenager with a brand new car would show, in fact he was much more excited than she was. He even took the time to put his number first in the car's speed dial.

Walter raised his cell phone, camera pointing towards her. "How about a smile?"

She looked to him, even with her heart shaped sunglasses on, Walter could tell she was far from pleased; being forced to take pictures. He had missed her first day of school, but this would have to do. As would her not so subtle scowl.

He snapped a few photos, capturing the joyous moment, maybe he could show his friends at work who were eager to meet Nikita. Melissa especially. Walter lowered himself so that he was at level with his daughter, who went back to mindlessly tuning the stations again. At the first sign of Walter's subtle discourse Nikita turned the volume up, ear grating aggressive music rattling through the subwoofers. If the neighbors of Pepper Tree Lane weren't awake before, they certainly were now. Walter's hand shot into the car, turning the volume all the way down.

"Listen." He started, surprised when she took off her sunglasses to look him in the eye. Walter had been told time and time again the two had the same eyes. Dark in some instances, polychromatic in most. Those very eyes were staring shards of ice into his soul. If looks could kill...

Walter swallowed thickly, her stare chilling at his bones. "I need you to promise me you'll stay out of the woods."

She pursed her lips, for a moment lost in thought. "Is this because they found Laura's body in the-"

"The body has not been identified yet."

A lie.

He had lost sleep, Laura's face haunting him every moment he closed his eyes. Walter would never forget the maggots spilling from her cavernous mouth, her eyes milky and glazed over. Her sheet-white near transparent body had been ripped in half, never in his life had Walter seen such a hateful violent death.

It was hard to look Nikita in the eyes while spoon feeding her lies, for certainly she would find a way to spit it back in his face. Unbeknownst to him...that lie would be the first of many.

Her steady gaze on him screamed 'why are you still here?' Nikita rolled up the window, another divide between them. He stood staring at his own idiotic reflection in her window, once again baffled by her cold ways. Walter never expected the two of them to fall back to old ways, yet he had hoped she would give him at least an ounce of respect. Perhaps she could see through his thinly placed veil.

When did he start fearing his own teenage daughter? He was the authority here, he was the adult, he was the one in charge.

The back of his knuckles rapped on the driver's side window with impatience, her attention on the steering wheel as the engine came to life. Walter cleared his throat to set the most assertive tone he could muster. Nikita needed to understand he wasn't about getting stepped all over.

"I'm going to tell you one more time, Nikita, stay out of the woods. Now get to school, and drive carefully."

Walter forced himself to to bury his pride, for in that moment he was pleasantly surprised by how authoritative his own voice sounded. He hadn't used his 'dad voice' in ages.

"Drive carefully." He warned sternly one last time as the mini cooper rolled down the driveway. All the sudden the small white car jerked in reverse, hitting and knocking over their trash cans. The putrid contents of the garbage spilled over and onto the street. He stood awe-struck, and watched her speed recklessly down the street.

* * *

Nikita's POV

"So anyways, like I was saying. If I get enough attention maybe I can get scouted, full ride to UCSF."

The only time Jackson seemed to find any shred of happiness was when he was discussing the one damn thing he loved in this world, lacrosse. Nikita was glad he had something to be passionate over, if only he could figure out how to be passionate about something else, anything else. Starting with her. The two of them walked down the halls of Beacon Hills High, hand in hand. In actuality it felt like Jackson was pulling her along. Really they were both pulling each other along, the pair knowing their game of charades would eventually come to an end.

" I hope you'll actually show up to the first game next week, unlike when you showed up for my try outs."

And there it was.

Nikita knew Jackson would bring it up, hang it over her head like a despairing rain cloud. In her defense she was at try-outs, it was Lydia's big mouth that had turned her off completely and chased her away. Already it was water under the bridge, Nikita was never one to hold a grudge. Unless it was against Walter, but Walter was his own special brand of fuckery.

"I'll be there." Nikita assured him with a small squeeze of his hand, her large brown eyes gently thawing the ice around his heart. Even Jackson couldn't stay mad at her when she gave him the Bambi eyes.

Sucker.

To her surprise Lydia was waiting for her right next to her locker, two frappuccinos in hand. It seemed Lydia Martin had a conscience after all, the decency to look sorry. A hopeful smile pulled on her cherry glossed lips, her dimples appearing.

"Are you trying to buy my forgiveness with an iced sugary caffeine fueled concoction, because...is that a caramel drizzle?" Nikita's hazel eyes narrowed observing the drink. Lydia's posture slumped at the sight of Nikita's discontempt, she really was sorry.

"I know you really like caramel."

"Because that's exactly what I need right now." Nikita finished, giving Lydia a smile and grabbing the olive branch.

Lydia let out a delighted squeal, handing Nikita her frappucino.

Jackson interrupted the brief special moment with his self-absorbed ways. Moments like these already so few between the girls. "I'm glad you two are well and good now. But I was talking about the first game."

Nikita sipped heavily on her drink, on the edge of giving herself a brainfreeze. A brainfreeze would be much more welcoming than another damn conversation about a sport she didn't care for. Lydia dipped her finger into the whipped cream sitting on top of her drink, and licked at it while eyeing Jackson.

" You better win that game, Jackson."

Jackson's brow lifted. "You know I will."

Allison approached the three of them, a bright smile on her face. Nikita was surprised Allison still wanted to hang out with them after the social car-wreck that was yesterday. How she hadn't been frightened away astonished Nikita. Allison was either desperate to hang out with them, being the new girl, or she just ballsy as hell. Nikita figured the second.

" Someone has a party tonight!" Allison reminded her, her adorable dimples coming out to play.

"Do I?" Nikita bit down on her straw, smile working around the green plastic.

Lydia, looked like she was about to shit out a brick, her lips pursed tightly. "That's not funny, do you know how much planning has gone into this?"

Literally the day Nikita met Lydia, the two began planning this party. Lydia especially. Nikita enjoyed hosting, having hosted a handful of parties back in Los Angeles, and her friend? She enjoyed the organizing aspect of it. Yet Lydia really wanted this party to go well, hogging all duties and responsibilities.

"It's just a party. Her party." Jackson coming to Nikita's defense and reminding Lydia cooley.

The strawberry blonde looked rather offended and surprised by Jackson's defiance. Immediately clamping her mouth shut.

Allison broke the tension with her nervous laugh. "Anyways, uhm... I was wondering if Scott can come?"

"No." Lydia and Jackson said in unison, without a second's breath.

Their collective disapproval appalled both Allison and Nikita. She didn't have the chance to socialize with Scott yet, he seemed like a nice guy. Quiet, especially when compared to Stiles Stilinski. Then again everyone was pretty quiet when compared to Stilinski.

"Of course you can." Nikita finished with a smile, certain Lydia and Jackson were screaming internally at Nikita's defiance.

Lydia's infamous eyeroll so deep, any deeper and Nikita was fairly certain Lydia would be able to find her genius brain she kept hidden in the back of her skull. Instead of putting in the effort and dealing with Nikita's stubborn and immovable ways, she excused herself to the bathroom, where surely she would vent it out in front of a mirror or some poor bystander. Another way of shining her apologetic side. Jackson on the other hand couldn't say much, or anything at all, having made clear only moments ago that it was Nikita's party, Nikita's guest list. He was clearly regretting that judging by his brooding silence. With nothing short of reluctance, he followed both Allison and Nikita as they headed to their first class of the day.

"Are you sure?" Allison's voice so lively and smile so wide, how could Nikita ever say no?

"Of course." Nikita returning the smile. Allison's giddy nature was starting rub off on her, she was feeling excited for Allison. "So you like him?"

Allison tucked her dark brown tresses behind her ear, coy in her mannerisms, her dimples had yet to disappear. "I saw him last night, after I hit a dog on the road."

"You did what!?" Jackson finally piped out, still behind the two girls.

Nikita was ready to release the floodgates and have herself a sob session if this story was about to go south.

"The dog is fine!" Allison cut back into conversation before Jackson and Nikita could jump to a grim conclusion. " Scott took care of her, bandaged her up. He was so gentle and sweet, even gave me his sweater to wear."

"He gave you his sweater?" Nikita exclaimed, feeling a cuteness overload coming on, and a touch of jealousy.

For a moment Jackson abandoned his caveman-esque ways. Finally he learned how to pick up on hints, and began to slide his lettermen jacket off to drape over his girlfriend's shoulder. Never in his life had he given his cut to another girl, he had a sort of obsession with his letterman jacket. The Jacket was a mere symbol for his accomplishments, his long hours of love and dedication to the sport, earning him a coveted MVP patch. No girl really held his interest long enough, for no female was on par with his athleticism. He put his Letterman jacket on his girlfriend anyways.

Nikita turned to him, her single dimple appearing on her right cheek at his rare show of affection. "Thanks babe."

Jackson planted a kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the sweet scent of her jasmine perfume, before heading to his first class of the day. "I'll see you at lunch." He said over his shoulder.

The two girls sat in their seats, students slowly filling in the classroom. Scott McCall took his seat beside Allison, the two giving each other heart eyes. That left Stiles, who sauntered over and took his usual place behind Nikita. She smoothed out the crinkles of the white leather sleeve of Jackson's Letterman jacket.

"Nice jacket." Stiles said behind her, this time his knee was in place.

"Thanks." She said, turning to face him, noticing his Beatles shirt. "Did you see my MVP patch?" The false pride in her voice made it hard to hide her smile.

Stiles raised his shoulders only for them to fall again. "Kind of jealous of your Most Vexed Pissbaby patch."

"It stands for Most Vivacious Penis, actually." She corrected, nodding towards her crotch.

"Looks more like Most Vicious Primeape." Stiles japed back, to his surprise she took the joke well, even laughing at it.

"It's because I haven't shaved my legs in three weeks, huh." Nikita confessed jokingly.

"Jesus…"

"- What? It's ironically cold here in Beacon Hells. I'm getting a headstart on my Winter Stockings."

Stiles laced his fingers together and allowed them to cradle the back of his head as he reclined into his seat. "Yeah, no comment. Because I know you'll chew me out if I tell you my opinion on that."

She looked to him with false admiration, even curling her bottom lip over. "You learned so fast."

He gave her a roll of her eyes. " Yeah, alright. I hear you have a party tonight? I want in. I need in. "

"You're already in..."

Stiles let out a triumphant fist pump in the air, relishing in his small victory.

"Calm down, you're not a special snowflake. Literally everyone is invited." She said before turning to face the front again, bursting Stiles' bubble.

"Did you make the lacrosse team?" Jonesy, who had seated himself, piped in. His voice genuine, showing excitement for his classmate, whom he assumed was in celebration.

"No." Stiles glowered, ending the conversation there. For the only position he placed on the team was a benchwarmer.

Jonesy looked to Nikita with confusion, right brow riding up. "What was that about?"

" I got invited to a party, if you must know. THE party." Stiles gloating pridefully from behind.

" Oh...THE party." Jonesy said, eyes never lifting off his backpack as he pulled out his black binder, homework and papers shoved messily inside. "Yeah, I can't make it."

"Joey!" Nikita did her best to hide the defeat in her voice. Lydia would be upset at this, Jonesy was one of the 'key players' of having a party. Plus Nikita found his company to be enjoyable around, their friendship budding already.

"I have to practice with the boys, Battle of the Bands is next week."

"Dammit Joey." Nikita murmured.

"That's a horrid excuse." Lydia sat herself before Nikita.

Jonesy ran his fingers through his dark brown locks, letting out a huff of air. "Look, I'll head over if we finish early. Does that work?"

Nikita nodded in agreement. "That's good enough for me."

The rest of their English class went relatively slow, their monotone teacher reading 'All Quiet On The Western Front.' Nikita's mind started to wander, as it normally would when she found herself to be bored. She couldn't help but to think of the body they found in the middle of the woods, if it truly belonged to Laura Hale. Her phone sat on her lap under the desk, where she would check the local news website to see if any developments were made in identifying the body; nothing yet. She hoped in her heart that it wasn't Laura, Nikita couldn't possibly handle another death, even if she hadn't seen Laura in ages.

Her thought process was interrupted as soon as their teacher announced the class would be pairing up for a project. Nikita loathed partner projects more than group projects. Partner projects forced people to actually get to know one another, at least in a group project there were too many people, no time for any sort of intimacy. She didn't think it could possibly get worse until her name was announced along with Stiles. Of the many people she could have been paired up with, it had to be the one she got off on the wrong foot with.

* * *

Nothing was more awkward than sitting across from your estranged father at a rather large and empty dinner table. The home...the house was deadly silent, save for the bubbling sound of highly potent black coffee brewing in the Keurig machine. Walter's frown deepened, his dark green eyes focused on the newspaper in his hand. The words Animal Attacks in a black bold font graced the front page. Nikita wasn't paying much attention, too preoccupied playing Candy Crush on her cell phone. This was as far as their attempt at father daughter bonding went, this was comfortable for them.

The two of them had mastered silence and distractions.

Walter cleared his throat, Nikita's gaze cutting across the table to land on him. " You're dressed up, going out?"

Nikita sat wearing a cropped velvet emerald tank top, a pair of fitted high waist denim shorts. To him it may have looked 'dressed up' to her standards, not so much. Lydia would certainly take issues with this later.

"No." Nikita answered simply, turning back to her Candy Crush. "I'm staying in…"

"Oh...Good...There's a new neuroscience documentary on Netflix narrated by Morgan Freeman, maybe we could-"

Walter's pager went off, disrupting him from his attempt at bonding. As per usual the hospital really needed him, most likely another animal attack. Shifts at the hospital had been picking up like crazy to the point where Walter was already feeling worn thin.

"Seems like people need you, Walter." Nikita started, adding emphasis to his name, for she would never call him dad. " Plus, I'm throwing a party tonight." Her tone of voice so cool Walter nearly didn't notice.

He did a double take from his pager, to her "Wh-what?"

Nikita's phone went off, a text from Lydia, announcing her arrival in five minutes. Nikita slid her phone back into her pocket, returning to Walter. " Party, a social event held to bring people together with such devices like libations and loud music."

Walter remained annoyed at her ability to be so blunt and sarcastic at the same time. She certainly got that from her mother. He pressed forth anyways. "Will there be-"

"Boys? Alcohol? Weed? Probably." Nikita was so nonchalant Walter almost didn't know how to act. Was he supposed to yell at her? Why was she being so honest? Was he allowed to yell at her honesty?

"'Don't worry mom's talked to me about all of those, you don't need to give me the talk."

Walter let out a sigh as he dodged that bullet, there was no way he was ever prepared to give his daughter the sex talk. Instead he reached in his pocket and pulled out two crisp one hundred dollar bills "Here's money for beer, don't do something you'll regret, also this place better be sparkling clean."

After finishing the paper he grabbed his keys and ran out the door, ready to pull another twelve hour long shift, and neglecting the coffee amongst other things.

Nikita was left alone at the dining room table. Four chairs on either side of the table, one each at the heads. All these seats, yet no one ever sat here to fill them. The house was almost always empty, with just Nikita by her lonesome self. If someone were to look at the walls of the house, they would see it were bare. No family photos, no sign of a family inhibiting the manor. If these walls were to speak, they would tell a sad story of a girl who spent most of her days alone, wishing the spare rooms would fill themselves with people who would offer her attention and affection.

Nikita jumped at the sound of the doorbell ringing, that would be Lydia, two hours early to the party. She opened the door to see Lydia in a bright red form fitting dress, strappy nude heels that were most certainly over seven inches; elevating the small fireball's height. Lydia's judgemental stare washed over Nikita.

"Is that a choker? Oh my god that's a choker. Are you wearing velvet and high waisted shorts? All that's missing is some grimey flannel." Lydia sneered. "Courtney Love called from the Nineties, she wants her wardrobe back."

Before Nikita could even defend her outfit choice, Lydia pushed past and made her way upstairs, to Nikita's room. Nikita followed, holding back whatever slew of pointless insults she had ready to fire at Lydia. Tonight was supposed to be about her, get her "acquainted" with her peers at Beacon Hills High, and other schools. Or so Lydia said. The party was completely her idea. Nikita agreed, seeing how there was usually nothing else happening Friday night before the first lacrosse game of the season.

Nikita wasn't good at many things, like cooking, knitting, existing, walking in heels; but she sure as hell knew how to throw a decent party.

Her go to guy, Greenberg had most of it covered. Serving as both bartender and D.J. Lydia was bent over the vanity table, applying layers and layers of her cherry lip gloss. Nikita could smell the fruity scent from where she stood, it smelled more like cough syrup than anything. She fished out the money Walter had given to her earlier, waving it in front of her. Lydia caught sight of this through the mirror's reflection.

"Got the Keg money, should pay off both of them."

Lydia's perfectly polished brow arched up, and her cherry glazed lips twisted into a smile, impressed with Nikita. "We're going to have so much fun tonight."

* * *

"Damn." Lydia breathed in, feeling highly exhilarated. "We're going to have so much fun tonight." And she meant it.

the two of them waited at the top of the bannister looking at the party goers below them. Lydia was simply blown away by the sheer multitude of people, spilling out from the house and into the backyard.

Nikita stood with her hands on her hips, her smile full of pride. They were all here because **she** invited them here. She was relishing in the glory and the popularity. She knew Lydia had her doubts, since Nikita was the new girl, this proved her wrong on so many levels. The two of them made their way down the marble steps, Nikita internally cursing and hoping she wouldn't fall and break her face. She swore falling would be her inevitable demise.

Nikita's hand wrapped around Lydia's slender wrist as she guided the two of them through the dancing crowd of people, making their way to the backyard where there was bound to be more space. Her head lolled back for a moment, taking in the music that Greenberg was spinning. She could feel the bass beneath her, reverberating through her very bones, bouncing in her skull. Bodies slid against her, some covered in the sheen of sweat, sticking to her. She didn't care, everyone was carefree. Not a single person was standing still.

The brisk air fanned against her as soon as they stepped outside, her backyard almost as large as the inside of her house. Nikita let go of Lydia's hand, who already found eye candy to prey upon. He was older than them, certainly a college student who was undoubtedly undressing Lydia with his dark eyes.

"I'll be back." Lydia said without taking her eyes off of him.

"Yeah, I'm sure you will." Nikita deadpanned.

Not even two minutes into the party and Lydia was ditching her.

Moments later she found Jackson next to the pool, talking to his lacrosse mates. She approached him, resting her chin on his broad shoulder from behind. Even then, he was deep in conversation about the greatest lacrosse playoff in Beacon Hills history. Nikita felt like an idiot for literally perching on her boyfriend, understanding no part of his monotonous conversation. Was she doomed to listen to talks of bodychecking and assists all night? Her eyes lit up at the sight of Jonesy just entering the backyard with Danny. Her saviors from mundanity were here.

"Danny! Joey!" Nikita shouted, garnering both their attention and purposely teasing Jonesy with the name she had given him. If anyone could break the staunch conversations, it would be them.

Nikita could feel the very muscles in Jackson's body coiling like a tight spring, his body stiffening at the mere sight of Jonesy. Never had she seen her boyfriend carry himself with such unease and dislike. And Jonesy himself was hesitant in coming over, his always friendly smile looking rather frigid and forced. Nikita's brows pinched together, observing both of their body language. The tension, like hissing static, hung thickly and uncomfortably above them. Everyone blissfully unaware, too preoccupied with drinks and conversations. They were like two alphas, broadening their chests in a show of dominance. And Nikita was stuck in the middle.

"I thought you had band practice." Nikita said, her hand easily sliding into Jackson's, trying her best to ease all of them into conversation. She was delighted Jonesy was here instead of playing with his band.

Jonesy's chin lifted the slightest, giving her a cheeky smile. "And miss your Welcome Home, Nikita Grace party?"

"Is that what they're calling it?" Jackson snorted in disbelief, lips meeting the rim of his bottle.

"I sort of like it." Nikita chimed in. In all honestly Beacon Hills wasn't her home, not anymore. But hey, at least people knew her name.

Jonesy's piercing blue eyes looked to her, his lips pulled to the side, discontent in noticing her empty hands. " How about I get the Host a drink?"

"No worries, I already got her a drink." Jackson's voice deep, irritated. Not allowing Nikita a moment to speak when he nearly shoved a red solo cup into her hand. The clear contents spilling onto the top of her hand.

"...This isn't beer." Nikita pointed out, settled in her disappointment.

She wasn't much of a drinker, but found some beers to be decent. Nikita was a world renowned lightweight, finding that it took only a few shots of liquor to get her thoroughly and completely trashed. In all honestly she found the taste of any sort of liquor to be absolutely revolting, at least it got the job done faster.

The red cup met her nude glossed lips. She could feel her soul cringe as the possible nail polish remover burned down her throat to light a fire in her belly. She swore her first sip already had her feeling buzzed.

"Jackson, what is this? It's so strong!"

His arm snaked around her to pull her in close by the waist, another brief staredown with Jonesy. "Vodka, soda water, and a squeeze of lime…You know so you don't have to worry about carbs."

Her grip tightened around the red solo cup, maybe Jackson should have thrown the tastes-like-straight-up-ass cocktail down his face-hole before thinking of even serving it to her. And carbs? Nikita wasn't about counting carbs, she was all about inhaling carbs, her one decent party trick.

What the hell was Jackson trying to insinuate anyways?

She saw Jonesy shake his head, disagreeing with Jackson's idea of a drink. "Maybe you should get your girl what she asks for."

Not all heroes wear capes. Some of them, like Jonesy, show up in a Strokes T-shirt and ripped jeans. The people in the intimate circle around them went silent having heard what he had said. It seemed everyone wanted to know how far this would escalate, If a possible fight could break out. Jackson's lacrosse thugs stood tall, their silent way of telling Jackson they have his back. And although Jonesy was alone in this, he didn't show an ounce of fear, Jackson and his goons were no threat to him.

"Oh, crap." Danny muttered under his breath, breaking the moment of tension. "I live for this shit."

"Enough with the pissing contest." Nikita cut in, voice weaved with vexation. "You two need to shake hands and make up."

"Make out." Danny corrected.

However, her boyfriend was having none of that. "No one asked you Jonesy, don't you have a circle jerk to attend?" Jackson barked, Jonesy shook his head in disappointment, finding himself bored with the lack of civil conversation and without another word headed off to the bar.

Nikita and Danny looked to each other with their mouths gaping wide, the two of them would certainly discuss this drama in great detail later.

Jackson's anger simmered down rather quickly with Jonesy out of his sight. He knew better than to metaphorically shit on Nikita's night. She could either scold him, put a damper on the night, or brush it off for now. Gently he grabbed her hand, planting a kiss on the top of her knuckle to smooth things over and lead her to the dance floor. Nikita hadn't danced in ages and gladly agreed.

They danced close to one another, the heat emanating off their bodies in waves. She could feel sweat speckling her forehead, strands of dark chestnut hair sticking to her face. Jackson buried his face in the crook of her neck, blowing cold air and kissing her there, his hand sliding down her lower back to pull her even close. He was the epitome of a perfect boyfriend for the rest of the night, minus the small bump earlier. Nikita's cup was ever flowing, Jackson diligent in making sure her cup was full at all times, like it was his sole duty. Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him so their foreheads were touching. From the side she spotted Allison and Scott arriving hand in hand. Nikita couldn't help but to smile, she could tell Scott made her friend happy.

Allison would beam brighter than the sun whenever Scott was around. Nikita had to admit, she was already jealous of what Allison and Scott had going on.

To her lack of surprise Stiles came in stumbling after them, looking like a fish out of water sporting his red hoodie. The two made eye contact from across the dance floor, Nikita giving him a half wave. Stiles' brows jumped up at her giving him any sort of attention, he was in disbelief, even turning around to make sure she wasn't waving at someone behind him. When he realized it was him Nikita was waving to, he waved back with a pleased smile.

Nikita was on her fifth cup of the strong concoction when Jackson dismissed himself to use the bathroom, leaving her very drunk and alone. She walked outside, legs wobbling on her tall high heels.

She could hear a crowd of people chanting Jonesy's name, for he was in the lead with his game of flip cup. Nikita watched from the top of the patio balcony as he expertly flipped every red solo cup to an upright position with ease. It was as though he had done this a million times before. The captain of the wrestling team seemed to be very proficient with drinking games, amongst other things. Jonesy didn't miss a beat going down the line of plastic cups, the people around him in disbelief, shouting his name and cheering him on with excitement. He got to the fifth and final cup, his opponent still stuck on the second cup. The crowd around him, including Nikita, went wild as he finished drinking the fifth cup; flipping it back into place.

Right away he noticed her cheerful hollering above from where he stood, she was without a doubt the loudest. The back of his hand wiped at the beer foam around his mouth revealing a boyish smirk on his face. Jonesy hopped up on a giant planter, showing off to those around him and bringing himself at level with Nikita, who stood at the edge of the patio balcony.

"That was pretty impressive, Jonesy." She admitted.

His sharp brows danced up and down. 'What was that?"

Crap, she had used his actual name instead of Joey.

" I don't know." Denial was a thing she had mastered, and she wasn't going to give Jonesy an opportunity to gloat. Nikita brought her drink to her lips, taking another chug. She could feel the effects of it, making her light headed, warming every inch of her body. Nikita cursed herself internally, knowing she was wearing a sloppy smile.

Jonesy grabbed her drink and poured it into the planter which he stood on.

"Hey!" She frowned, snatching back the empty cup. A pout worked it's way on her face. "I thought we were friends. Friends don't take each other's drinks away." Nikita lamented with feigned hurt.

"I was doing you a favor, Niki. Plus these plants need to be watered."

Nikita pressed her palm against his face, playfully pushing him away. "Go home Jonesy, you're drunk."

Jonesy seemed to understand Nikita's humor, always slinging it right back at her. He let out a laugh and hopped over the edge of the balcony, standing beside her now. His height nearly towering hers, even with high heels on. She tipped over the empty cup, not even a drop remained.

"Hey." Jonesy said, his near transparent blue eyes flickered with a hint mischief, sparking excitement in her very bones. "How about that drink I promised you?"

Next thing Nikita knew both Jonesy and Danny had a grip on her ankles as she was held upside down over the keg, she was doing her first ever keg stand. Herds of people gathered around her as they counted how many seconds she had been drinking. It was their turn to chant her name. Finally after twenty seconds she had enough, the crowd erupted in cheers. Nikita couldn't help but to laugh uncontrollably, certain the burning sensation in her nostrils was beer dripping out.

Jonesy clapped her shoulder, the corners of his full lips tugging upwards. "Pretty impressive, Nikita."

* * *

"Anyone seen my boyfriend?" Nikita slurred heavily, barely audible as she trailed through the bustling house, once again making her way to the backyard. It had been two hours now and her boyfriend and friend were nowhere to be seen. "Or Lydia?"

Nikita was pretty plastered, wobbling with every step. She thought she had heard her name being called. Her head quickly turned to the side, causing her hip to hit the column on which at outdoor vase sat on. The clay vase smashed to bits, prompting more applause, these people sure loved destruction.

"Oh, oops." Nikita giggled, simply too drunk to care.

Standing at the top of the cobblestone steps she decided what her chances were of not falling. Nikita was practically seeing double and wearing six inch heels, her chances were slim, yet she decided to do so anyways. To her surprise she didn't fall, until she got to the last step.

The bottom of her heel hit loose gravel, causing her to slip. Luckily she was caught by a kind stranger, Nikita's head rested on the stranger's chest comfortably, already she felt like falling asleep. The brunette looked up to see Stiles smiling down at her, he was the one who caught her. She must have smelled heavily of alcohol because his smile dropped instantly as a look of concern painted itself across his face.

"You alright there, Drunky?" Stiles asked, hand pressed on her back to ensure she didn't slump over.

"Sober as a judge." Nikita said with a wink, having yet to pull herself away from Stiles.

Being the human embodiment of a hot mess had it's downs, like when you rub your eyes and forget you're wearing makeup. Nikita looked to her mascara and eyeshadow stained hands and muttered a good curse or two to herself.

"I don't think that's a saying, Nikita." Stiles' smile widened. " I'm kind of let down you don't have better material."

Nikita swatted his hand away, a frown pressing on her features. "Hey man, It's hard being a smartass all the time, you would know."

"I would." Stiles on the verge of beaming with pride, oblivious to Nikita sliding out of her high heels. "But uh, I could give you advice on how to be a better smartass."

"How considerate of you." Nikita said over her shoulder, cutting her way across the backyard, Stiles following her close behind.

"I always thought of myself as a charitable sort of fellow." Stiles admitted.

"Stiles."

"Yeah?" His voice pleasantly earnest.

"Shut up."

Nikita stood at the edge of the pool now, facing Stiles. The water glowed like pure magic, the pool lights having been replaced by black lights. The refracting lights shining through the surface of the pool danced across Stiles's face, illuminating his dark eyes to a bourbon like honey. Nikita smiled, for the first time seeing him as handsome rather than some scrawny nerd who wore tasteless and outdated shirts. He looked to her, then back at the pool; putting two and two together.

"That looks like a really bad idea." Stiles pointed out.

"Not to toot my own horn but I'm a two time LAUSD swim champion." A cocky grin spread across her lips.

"...I think you just...tooted."

Nikita let out a sloppy laugh before her fingers grabbed the bottom of her velvet tank top, swiftly taking it off, and revealing her plain black bra beneath. Stiles' eyes widened to the size of saucers. Carelessly she threw the shirt at Stiles' face, blinding him for a second. His jaw nearly hitting the floor at the sight of her. Nikita took a dive into the pool in her shorts and bra, the cool water jolting her awake.

She sat at the bottom of the pool for a moment, knowing Stiles was probably worried for her. His silhouetted figure was visible, face as close to the surface as he could get, peering down at her. The full moon illuminated brightly above him, highlighting the tips of his hair. For a moment all the music and chattering muted, leaving her in a tranquil state. She was sucked into a vacuum, allowing her mind to remain peaceful. Lydia and Jackson were nowhere to be seen, but for some reason that wasn't bothering her.

Nikita kicked off the bottom of the pool and broke the surface, Stiles let out a sigh of relief.

"Wanna take a dip Stiles?"

His always warm brown eyes locked with hers " I'm more of a land person."

"What's that? Don't want to take a dip with a pretty girl?"

A pink flush swept over his cheeks, making Stiles flustered was much too easy and way too fun.

Stiles swallowed thickly before saying. "Who said you're my type?"

" You're right." Nikita agreed. " I'm not plastic and inflatable."

He couldn't help but to chortle at her sharp wit. "You're describing a blow up doll...aren't you…"

Before Nikita could answer a party-goer jumped over her and cannonballed into the pool, groups and groups of people took notice and joined in. They all stripped to their basics, and those with their clothes still on didn't mind getting wet.

Even with the commotion and excitement, Nikita was thoroughly distracted. Someone standing next to the fire pits had caught her attention, her mouth slightly hung open at the sight of them. There he was with his midnight black hair, hands stuffed in his pockets, staring daggers across the yard. Her gaze followed his, to see he was staring at Scott McCall. Stiles being sharp as a tack caught on quick, he turned around but saw nothing

"Nik, are you alright?" Without hesitation he pulled her out of the pool, his muscles slightly flexing as he eased her out. Nikita slipped her shirt back on as her eyes scanned the crowd, he was gone. Her eyes landed on Scott who was doubling over, wincing in pain. Quickly she tugged on Stiles' hand "Your friend!" in a matter of a second his face went pale

"Stay here Nik, I'll be right back!" She watched him push his way through the crowd to make his way to Scott.

She caught a glimpse of the leather jacket once more, heading into her house. Nikita pushed her way through the crowd, making her way back into the house. everything felt like it was in slow motion, like wading through thick mud. Her head was swimming, her tongue dry. It was her stomach she was concerned for, sharp pains and nausea intertwined ….She needed to find a bathroom fast.

Once Nikita was inside she gripped the walls for balance and made her way through the hall, her wet feet leaving fresh prints on the Spanish tile floors of her home. Of course she was met with a ridiculously long line to the bathroom. The idea of her going up the stairs sounded too great of a challenge, there was no way she would make it upstairs without throwing up. Heat travelled through her body, settling on the back of her neck. She was feeling woozy, sweat starting to bead across her pale washed out skin. Nikita's clammy hands rested across her stomach, wanting any sort of relief.

"Dude she's going to hurl." A party goer with a neon orange bucket hat nudged his friend who was beyond stoned. "You're like green and shit."

"I feel like shit." She slurred. More like she felt like a pile of shit left out in the steaming sun, only to be treaded on repeatedly.

How her body hated her for abusing it with all the vodka and beer, probably not the best of life choices. Nikita's body straightened, it was happening. Her hand went over her mouth, and everyone around her gasped and watched in horror. She threw up a bit in her mouth, quickly swallowing it back.

"Dude she swallowed! What a champ." Bucket hat exclaimed to his non-coherent friend.

"See Stephanie? She gets it!" Some guy in line yelled at his girlfriend.

Nikita let out a groan, burying her head in her hands, she averted absolute humiliation by a hair. That was way too close.

"Drink this." A red solo cup was pushed into her face.

She was three seconds away from slapping the drink out of the idiot's hand. Like hell she wanted to carry on drinking, Nikita was shutting it down for the night.

Nikita finally looked up to see a friend from the past she never thought she would see. The two of them were finally face to face, a hint of concern behind his grey eyes. Recognition was barely palpable for she hadn't seen him in such a long time, six years to be exact.

"I've been taught not to take drinks from strangers." Her single dimple appeared.

"I think you and I are far from being strangers." Finally the corner of his lips tugged upwards, only for a mere second. He had changed from the teenager she remembered from her childhood. His body was more rugged and built, his once friendly eyes seemed cold and distant, his once soft jaw line now looking like it was cut out of stone. Any doubt as to who he was vanished as he grabbed her necklace and studied the initials closely.

His hands went on to feel the soft fabric of the red hoodie she was wearing. The hoodie belonging to Stiles. He must have slipped it onto her shoulders after helping her out of the pool, clearly she didn't notice until now.

Derek's nose scrunched, dissatisfaction scrawled heavily on his features. "Please tell me you're not dating that hyper-active idiot."

Instead she ignored him, letting him hang on the cusps of curiosity. Nikita raised her cup in a toast "Welcome home, Derek." The cup met her lips as she drank the water, instantly feeling replenished. Her attention was ripped away from him when she saw Scott run out the front door with great haste. Nikita looked back to see Derek was gone, so silent she never saw him leave.

"That was a heartwarming reunion." Nikita grumbled to herself, drinking the rest of the water.

It was silly of her to think she would receive a warm hug or any sort of reconciliation.

"Whatever, too drunk to process this anyways." Nikita thought to herself.

She started bobbing her head as her favorite song started playing, the cheery tune picking her mood up once more. Just then Stiles ran up to her with a worried expression. The red cup slipped out of her hands as she was too excited to contain herself.

"Stiles! Let's dance! This is my favorite song."

"That sounds amazing! But have you seen Scott?"

Nikita was too busy drunkenly running the palm of her hand over his buzzed hair, the soft bristles tickling at her hands; oddly enough Stiles didn't seem to mind as he was too busy panicking.

"Mmm…He left." Nikita's voice cheery as ever.

Stiles' eyes went so wide she swore she saw her own reflection smiling like an idiot in his chocolatey eyes.

"I-I need to go!" He ran out the front door. Nikita was puzzled, did she just get rejected by Stilinski over something as innocent as a dance? She tried to blow a strand of her hair away, but it was still soaked and stuck to her face.

Nikita jumped and let out a yelp as Stiles jumped in front of her "I can't believe I'm doing this! You are so hot! I'm sorry!" he bolted out of the house again. The doe eyed girl couldn't help but to smile as she walked back to the backyard, it had been such an odd night, and she probably wouldn't remember half of it come tomorrow.

The red and blue lights of the police sirens danced across the walls of her home. She didn't expect her party to get rolled so quickly, it made sense with the police of Beacon Hills having nothing to do all day. People started pouring out rather quickly, some in panic, not wanting to deal with a ticket for under age drinking. Nikita sat herself at the bottom of the steps, watching her house empty out once more. Jackson descended down the stairs to sit next to her, his fingers brushing through her chestnut hair.

Her right brow hitched up. "You were upstairs?"

"I wanted to use a private bathroom." He admitted. "Anyways, looks like you had an epic party."

He looked her up and down, noticing Stiles' red hoodie on her, her clothes still soaking wet. But he didn't make a mention of it, brushing it off as though it were nothing.

Nikita let out a sigh and stretched out her legs. "We should probably clear people out of the backyard."

"Yeah." Jackson agreed. "Probably."

The back of his hand stroked the apple of her cheek, and he leaned in. Nikita kissed her boyfriend, it was chaste and quick. Jackson jumped to his feet, extending his hand for Nikita to take. Her tongue ran over the bottom of her lip, noticing how it tasted like cherry lip gloss after kissing Jackson.

* * *

THANK YOU FOR READING THE PARTY CHAPTER. I hope you guys enjoyed it. There's going to be a lot of Stiles and Nikita next chapter. And maybe some talks of the OTHER Jones brother. Please let me know what you guys thought :]


	5. Chapter 5

Hello everyone! I would like to thank those of you who were kind enough to read and review my last chapter. Thank you to:

Kisageckos, Ms. Fortunate, Eleanoraargent, Aflourescentadolescent, Bri, Itbelongsinamuseum, Wildrecklessyouthinme, Maddierose, and to my new followers; welcome!

Shoutout to those of you who read this chapter half a dozen times on my docs and listened to me bitch and complain. Thank you Itbelongsinamuseum for being spectacular and putting up with me and helping me with this chapter.

This chapter is pretty heavy on the character development, lots of Stiles and Nikita, but next chapter will push along the plot. Hope you guys enjoy it!

PS: LOVES taking random sentences out of my writing, so if any part looks choppy or missing please let me know.

* * *

" Fuuuuuuckkkk." Nikita groaned, feeling disgusting, fairly certain she still smelt of alcohol.

The mass of trees swayed gently with the breeze, silently beckoning to her. Bare branches spread to the sky like fingers yearning to touch the perfectly fluffy clouds. They didn't need to beckon when she already felt drawn to the woods, a natural unfathomable magnetism pulling her in. Nikita stood before a planked sign that read ' STAY ON THE PATH' In faded all black lettering. Someone had taken the artistic liberty to spray paint the words SUICIDE HILL over the sign in white. It was mid-morning, yet the preserves were deserted. The people of Beacon Hills usually stuck to their stuffy sweaty gyms rather than nature. She needed the fresh air, with desperate intentions of curing the nausea brewing in the pit of her stomach.

The right toe of her shoe dug lightly into the earth, feeling the terrain of which she would run upon. The earth was soft, almost springy, perfect. In a matter of seconds bits of loose dirt kicked up behind her and her feet pounded rhythmically into the ground, Nikita running directly into the preserves and onto a jogging path that ran through the edge of the woods. The wind whipped lightly against her face, blowing back strands of fine dark baby hairs.

Just the simple act of stretching her limbs was enough to make her feel exhilarated and alive, momentarily giving her a lapse on her queasy stomach. How she felt so cooped up lately, especially with the social pressures of being well connected to Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore. Since moving to Beacon Hills Nikita stopped feeling like her old self, often forced into a cramped box of Lydia and Jackson's self interests. Their routine and ordinary ways weren't part of her interests, they weren't her at all, they were nothing like her.

Pretending was getting harder each and every day.

Nikita picked up the pace. The harmonic chirping of birds and the rustling of the crisp leaves belonging to Beacon Hills' perpetual autumn soon blocked out by the sound of her pulse beating in her ears. With every deep breath she could feel her lungs expanding, drinking in the delicious clean non-polluted air. A childlike smile worked on her face as her feet treaded off the jogging path. She needed to immerse and lose herself in a place that hadn't been touched or tainted by the hands of man, a place that isolated her from society and its many wasn't a soul around her to tell her no, there usually wasn't. She had never stayed on course in her life, and she wasn't about to begin now.

The track star found herself jumping over the hurdles of rocks and logs, never did her pace falter, in fact it quickened as she cut deeper into the heart of the woods. The bottom of her feet crunched on the fallen leaves, only to be muffled by the mud of the creek. Ice cold water seeped through her brand new running shoes as she crossed the shallow creek, splashing the dazzling crystalline water and sending the tadpoles into a scurry.

The woods, her old friend, embraced her and she embraced it back; running through her familiar stomping grounds with a particular destination in mind.

Running had always been a favorite of hers since she could remember. It sprouted from childhood when she would play with her friends, Cora in particular. She had always been good at it, faster than all of the kids in her classes; except for Cora of course. Running was therapeutic, one of the few outlets that allowed a release, a moment of clarity. Nikita had many hobbies, most of which she had given up on after six months or so. The trophy case in the guest bedroom could attest to that, littered with medals and trophies from her past sports.

Running stayed, it was the only constant in her life.

Nikita gave herself a little push, picking up her pace, for she was nearing the end of her destination. Her lungs felt ablaze, beads of sweat rolling down her face. Yet she felt the need to break her speed, turn the trees and the world around her into a blur. If only for a moment.

Running on an empty stomach, and possibly still drunk from the night before wasn't the brightest idea. She had nearly doubled over if it weren't for the giant tree she wrapped her firm grip on. Her fingers scratched and chipped at the rough bark of the tree, the acidic taste of bile rising in the back of her throat. It took her longer than usual to catch her breath, the effects of drinking making her feel groggy and sick. It wasn't until a chill breeze picked up, offering her the smallest amount of relief, did Nikita look up.

Coming face to face with the Hale home was never expected to be easy. Yet here she stood anyways, at the edge of the property. It had taken her months to muster the courage to stare down the home which she could have call her own. Nikita had never seen the home with her own two eyes after the fire, it was much like how she remembered. It stood familiar to her memories, like a friend who she hadn't seen in ages. Part of the roof had burnt through, leaving what once was the master bedroom exposed. The exterior had singed to a black, although most of the soot had been scrubbed off. The home was bare, it even looked frail, like a steady gust of wind could knock it all down.

An icy chill trickled down her spine, raising goosebumps to the surface of her flesh. Nikita swallowed thickly past the lump rising in the back of her throat, finding her mouth to be dry. With her eyes squeezed shut she swore she could picture the angry flames, licking at the side of the house, consuming those within it. Deafening screams penetrated her ear drums, the imagined screams of Talia, Cora, the rest of the Hale family. Cora was supposed to be at school that day with Nikita, she was supposed to be safe, she was supposed to be alive.

It was often Nikita found herself caught in the crossfire of nostalgia. The tricky drug on which she carelessly sipped upon crawled out of its dark hole since her unwanted return to Beacon Hills. It was thoughts of her perfect childhood with the Hale's, happy memories that held her back, inhibiting her from moving on. Nikita had thought herself brave enough, as though coming here would have brought some sort of solace into her life. Close a chapter that had been open for much too long. All it did was tear open old wounds again.

The relentless feel of nausea was back, along with a newfound feeling of paranoia. There was one rule Nikita always abided by when it came to roaming into the woods.

 **Never turn back.**

 **Never look over your shoulder.**

For if you did, you would trick your mind into thinking somebody was after you. Nikita couldn't shake the feeling that somebody was watching her.

She didn't want to be here anymore.

It was decided then, she would sooner see Peter than come back to the Hale house ever again. Nikita chose to walk back to her home, her queasy stomach wouldn't permit her to run.

Once she reached home she was greeted with Stiles' giant blue crap-toaster parked in her driveway. He sat at her front steps awaiting her arrival, grocery bag in hand, and his usual shit eating grin plastered on his face. Just looking at his face gave her a headache, or it could have been the hangover. Nikita was clueless as to why he was here, she had just seen him the night before at the party. Unless she drunkenly made plans with him, which she was already starting to regret. To be honest she didn't remember much of last night, just bits and pieces she wished she could forget. Wordlessly she approached him, arms crossed, with no effort of putting on a friendly face.

"You look like death." Stiles started, diverging his insult as soon as he saw the unwelcoming scowl on her face. "And sunshine."

Nikita was in no mood for his asinine ways, all she wanted was take a nice bath, scavenge for a pizza in the back of the freezer, and catch the Saturday afternoon marathon of Golden Girls. She drew out her house keys from her back pocket, walking around Stiles who was still seated on the front steps.

"Why are you here?" Her voice short of sweet and welcoming. Her eyes landed on the brown paper bag of groceries, instantly reminded of how hollow and empty her own stomach felt.

Stiles hopped to his feet, and that annoying, filled with condescension, matter of factly look spread across his features. " We have that English project we were assigned. Or did you forget?"

"You seem to forget that it was only assigned yesterday." Nikita bit down, too early to be dealing with Stiles' sass.

" Oh I didn't forget, I just want us to get a head start on this."

Stiles' face nearly startled her as he leaned against the side of the house, just mere inches away from her. Clearly no one had taken the time to teach this boy the importance of personal space.

"Plus I knew you would be too hungover to make any real plans today, go out, or function like a normal human being for that matter. I mean you were beyond shit-faced last night."

Nikita shot him a pointed look, opening the front door.

Stiles lifted the bag of groceries up. "Which is why I'm making you a proper greasy hangover breakfast, a-la-Stilinski style."

Her eyes ping ponged between the bag of food and Stiles, clearly he knew the way to her heart was through her stomach. As if on cue her stomach let out the most obnoxious growl, causing Stiles to wiggle his brows; she hated it when he was right. Nikita hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was rude to just snatch the food and shut the door on him. She decided against her judgement, nodding her head towards the inside of the house.

Stiles didn't hesitate in marching towards the kitchen, as though he had been here many times before. "Nik." His voice calling, Nikita stepping off her mud crusted shoes. " Where are your pans?"

"The wh- check under the uh…" The word she was thinking of on the tip of her tongue.

"You don't know where your pans are?"

"The cupboard." She huffed out, joining Stiles in the kitchen.

All the ingredients in his mystery grocery bag splayed out across the counter. Nikita's eager eyes quick to land on the bacon and cheddar. Stiles poked his head in her fridge, in search of butter. Nikita cringed with humiliation at the sight of her bare fridge. A lone half eaten sandwich, a box of takeout, and a few apples sat on display. She never really made the effort to cook, it was simply a skill she never possessed. Frozen pizzas, take out, sugary cereals, and fast food were all part of her wholesome balanced diet. If she were being honest, she didn't even know how to use their gas stove. Although it was attempted once, but the clicking and smell of gas made her nervous, she didn't want the house to explode, so she never attempted again. And Walter was never home anyways.

Stiles marveled over her bare fridge, before pulling out the butter. "What are you, a college frat boy?"

She let out an exaggerated insulted scoff "More like starving artists. Anyways, stop judging me, and tell me what you're making."

Several moments later they were both chowing down a greasy breakfast. Stiles had made the both of them a breakfast sandwich stuffed with scrambled eggs, gooey melted cheddar cheese, crisp bacon, hashbrowns, and sauted onions. It was the first time someone had cooked her anything since her mother, and what a meal it was. Granted it was nothing like her mother's cooking, not even close; but it was about the effort that counted. Like Stiles had promised, the Stilinski sandwich hit the spot. The sandwich was a salty, greasy, and gooey, the perfect remedy to a hangover.

"The grease really soaks up the alcohol." Stiles said through a mouthful of food.

" I don't think it works that way, but whatever this is, it's pretty damn amazing." Her single dimple appearing along with a friendly smile. " What birthed this beautiful creation?"

Stiles licked at the bottom of his lip, tasting at the salt there. " It's just a thing I made for my dad, he used to have many...rough nights."

Her right brow raised at how open that statement was, Stiles inadvertently suggesting his father was once a heavy drinker. She brushed it off, not wanting Stiles to sit in the awkward topic, even though he seemed completely alright with it.

"You and your father must be close." Stiles now finished with his meal. "Just the two of you living in this large house."

She couldn't help but to let out a snort at his presumptuous statement. Stiles, perceptive as usual, took the hint well; that her and Walter hardly ever got along.

Nikita reclined into her seat, rather full and content thanks to Stiles' breakfast. " It's just you and your father? Just like me?"

He nodded, darkened eyes averting hers, concentrating on the bottle of hot sauce before him instead. She had never taken the time to study Stiles before, until now, as he sunk into vulnerability. It was normal for an artist whose skills rested on life drawings to examine one's face. Her own eyes washed over Stiles, following each mole that speckled his youthful face, connecting the dots like they were distant constellations.

" Yeah, my mother passed away a while back." Stiles admitted.

Nikita could tell that It pained him, what he held deep inside unfurling and uprooting before her. It was then she understood that her and Stiles, who she thought was just another loud mouthed moron from class, had more in common than she originally had assumed.

" Frontotemporal Dementia" Stiles tapped the side of his temple, indicating the epicenter of the disease that took his mother. "Where is your mother?"

Her arms crossed over her chest, it was now her turn to sink into vulnerability. Someone actually asking of her mother, a topic Walter avoided, as though her death never happened. Strangely enough speaking of her mother brought Nikita comfort, an echo of past contentment filling her chest. A flicker of past warmth.

She cleared her throat, afraid she would trip on her own words. "Six feet under."

"Oh." Was all Stiles managed to say, afraid to press on.

"Car wreck on the 405."

She found it hard to look to him, worried he was giving her the typical pitied stare people often gave her when finding out about her mother. The kind of stare that made her feel meek and childlike. She didn't want that from Stiles, another pair of sympathetic eyes to go along with her sympathetic life.

"You know what I miss the most?" Stiles' voice cutting through the silence and awkwardness, trying to make light of such heavy conversation.

She welcomed the topic change eagerly.

Without missing a beat she answered "her cooking."

Stiles let out a chuckle, pushing his leftover food around his plate "So much, you have no idea."

Nikita zoned out for a moment recalling her mother's cooking. Nothing could ever compare to her mother's skills in the kitchen. She missed the way the house used to waft with the soft scents of aromatic herbs. Her head turned to the kitchen, where her mother would be standing if she were alive today, making her and Stiles a proper lunch.

" Coq au vin." The words sounding just as delicate and rich as the dish itself.

"Coq-a-what?" Stiles' brow meeting together, putting an emphasis on the word Coq. Nikita determined the quizzical look on his face to be pretty damn comical. She held her smile back anyways, not wanting Stiles to feel uneducated on French Cuisine.

Nikita twirled her fork between her middle and index finger. " That was my favorite dish of hers."

Stiles nodded, understanding yet looking lost at the same time, wondering what in the world a Coq Au Vin was. She was certain he would google it on his phone as soon as he hopped back into his car and pretend like he knew all along.

"Mac and Cheese." He retorted. "Before you laugh, know it was the best thing in the world."

Her head tilted, cheeky smile on her face. " You must think I'm insane, I would never talk bad about Mac and Cheese."

Stiles got to his feet, grabbing her empty plate and setting it on top of his own. "Good, because then we would have a problem." With that he carried their plates over to the sink. " Anyways, we should start our project."

* * *

Walter's POV

"This looks delicious." Walter couldn't help but to flirt with the fine line of sarcasm.

His lunch before him was nothing short of disappointment. It consisted of a paleo meal, unseasoned roast chicken and steamed carrots. Melissa looked to him with overflowing pride, happy to see her boyfriend making such a positive change in his life...giving up red meat would be the bane of his existence. The change came shortly after Nikita's move back to Beacon Hills, Melissa explained that Walter has to be be healthier than ever if wanted to be in Nikita's life forever, and that her moving back was the start of many positive changes. Melissa, ever-optimistic and so blissfully unaware of how rickety the bridge that bonded he and his daughter actually was.

And then there was Brody Jones.

Only a few years younger than Walter himself, at forty-six Brody was the Chief Surgeon at Beacon Hills Hospital, the youngest Chief Surgeon on the West Coast. And although Brody was young compared to most of the people in his position, he held all the wisdom far beyond his years, one could see the sage behind his dark brown eyes. Dark hair, dark stubble, and his quiet patient demeanor all adding to his stoic nature.

The two of them had become best friends rather quickly, having worked numerous hours together and often. Brody had been blessed with a wife whose main passion was food, cooking and baking more specifically. He sat before them in his office desk, a plate of Miso glazed salmon and creamy mashed potatoes on his plate. Walter looked to Brody's food longingly, trying to ignore the slice of carrot cake he just took out.

"How are things with Nikita?" Brody pulling Walter out of his hangry state, only for a moment, forcing him to eye his colleague rather than his food.

Melissa's hand rested on top of Walter's. He took a moment to relish her warmth and comfort which she offered so freely and unconditionally. It was easy to see how Melissa McCall had made a home in Walter's heart. Both she and Brody had been wondering about Nikita since her arrival, four months had passed and neither of them had met her yet. It was odd to think his girlfriend of three and a half years had yet to come face to face with Nikita, in fact Walter had yet to tell Nikita about Melissa. He was sort of hoping Melissa's son, Scott would casually bring it up.

"Things are...tough." Walter admitted, passing his phone to Brody, Nikita's scowling face and heart shaped glasses on the screen.

Both of Brody's eyebrows lifted, observing the photo and fighting to hold back a grin. "Wow, she looks rather friendly."

Walter had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Brody's not so subtle sarcasm. " Having a daughter isn't easy."

Melissa let out a laugh, squeezing Walter's hand before letting go. "Try having a son."

Brody nodded "Try having two."u

"They're so messy." Melissa stared off into space, recalling her memories of raising Scott on her own. " Drink straight from the milk carton."

"They jizz on everything." Brody pointed out so casually before spearing his lunch with a fork.

"Blankets." Melissa started.

"Pillows of all kinds." Brody added.

" The shower." She sighed.

"Tube socks."

"I get it." Walter intervened. "But you didn't have a six year break and then jump back in."

His co-worker nodded in agreement. "We adopted Alex when he was ten, even then he was fairly easy to raise."

"Alex is a rarity, a prodigal child." Walter pointed out. Brody was lucky his oldest son's interests were once deeply rooted in academia and science. Jonesy may have been more 'eccentric' compared to his older brother, even then he was well behaved and respectful of his parents.

" I would like to remind you, I raised Scott on my own, nothing was easy." Melissa's deep brown eyes peered into Walter, she looked to him without judgement, but rather sympathy. "There's an easy way to go about this, you know."

"How."

Walter was desperate for an answer, desperate to reconcile with his daughter and move on. He never imagined Nikita would return bitter, stubborn, and so unforgiving, she almost felt like a girl he didn't recognize. Walter had done everything he could to keep her happy, let her pick out all the furniture in her room, bought her a new car, bought her a new bike, supplied money for her party; and yet she was left unsatisfied.

Brody sat up straight, having finished his meal and moving onto the carrot cake. " This may come as a shock to you, friend. But it's called spending time with your child."

Melissa let out a soft snort of laughter, looking to Walter and how uncomfortable that comment left him. " He's right you know." She added.

He could feel humiliation and anger meeting, they weren't insinuating he was a terrible father, but at the moment it sure felt like it. " It's not easy finding time when you're living on an on-call schedule."

His words held truth, living the life of a medical surgeon in Beacon Hills was nothing short of unforgiving and unrelenting. It had always been Walter's aim in life, his passion to save the lives of others, often neglecting and sacrificing his own. On the other side of the coin, keeping a distance between he and Nikita meant he didn't have to look in her eyes and deny the existence of the Supernatural world.

Walter opened his mouth to defend himself when Brody jumped in again. "Walter, if I can find time to spend with Jonesy and my wife, then you can find time to spend with Nikita."

"I couldn't say it better myself." Melissa agreed. "Start with baby steps, Walter."

"She hates me." His every word filled with lamentation, because in his heart he knew she had every right to.

"She needs you." Melissa corrected, her voice more stern this time. " She just lost her mother, and you are all that she has."

Walter let out a puff of air before sinking his head into his hands out of pure frustration. They were right, he couldn't carry on with neglecting his only child, fearing a teenager is absurd. He nodded his head, already thinking of all the small ways he and Nikita could bond before laying down the bricks of their foundation.

Melissa lent forward to plant a kiss on his forehead, her dark curls fell before her deep bourbon eyes. Walter pulled back her curls gingerly to admire her beauty.

" Well I'm heading out, I need to pull out a catheter from some unlucky fella." Her voice far too chipper for something so unfortunate.

As soon as she left Walter's eyes landed back onto the carrot cake Brody was quickly working on. He just wanted a taste, wanted the buttercream frosting to melt on the tip of his tongue. Anything baked by Brody's wife, Olivia, was bound to be amazing. Also, anything was better than the paleo cardboard before him. While Brody was in his sugar rush bliss, enjoying the cake, Walter picked up his fork. Without warning his hand shot forward, fork going for the cake. Brody slapped Walter's fork out of his hand with his own fork. The utensil hit the floor with a clank; Walter letting out a defeated groan.

"Gotta be faster than that, Pendejo." Brody's mahogany eyes sparkling with mischief and victory.

Walter sunk into his seat, perpetual frown plastered on his face.

* * *

Nikita's POV

"This is so much better than working on that project." Stiles' words muffled through a fistful of popcorn.

"I told you, Golden Girls is timeless." Nikita's hand going straight into the bowl, eyes glued tentatively onto the T.V.

The two of them were laying on their bellies, watching the classic comedic show on the big screen. They tried working on their project, but found ten minutes into working that it was nothing short of mundane.

"You're a Blanche." Stiles said with no hesitation as the southern vixen sashayed across the screen with a martini in hand.

Nikita let out an exaggerated scoff tossing a handful of popcorn at Stiles. "Don't be bitter because you're the perfect candidate to play Sophia."

His eyes widened so comically Nikita couldn't help but to laugh. Stiles looked back and forth between the T.V and her to make sure she was being serious.

"The old prune?"

Nikita's right hand swatted in the air with frustration. "Prune? Sophia is the best part of the show! You should feel honored to even be compared to her you Sass-fuck." She said half jokingly.

Stiles nearly choked on his popcorn, Nikita's sense of humor once again throwing him off guard.

" Okay! Whoah! Time out. First off, good use of a made up word, aced the creativity and strong on the delivery."

Nikita rolled her eyes at his sarcastic words, her smile yet to falter.

"Second, I want to be Betty White." He protested, clearly Stiles had intense feelings when it came to a T.V show he had never watched. " I always thought of myself as a Betty White type of guy."

"...I mean if that's what stirs your loins."

He blinked hard. "That isn't even close to what I was insinuating. Nikita, some of the things you say just...baffle me."

Nikita shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah... I've been told I'm a baffling person. Anyways, who am I to judge the type of girls you're into?"

Stiles gave her a playful nudge of her shoulder and opened his mouth to counter when the doorbell rang. The two exchanged a look of confusion, under the assumption that it would just be the two of them all day. The doorbell rang again, whoever was on the other side clearly short of patience. Nikita got up and walked down the formal foyer, bare feet padding on the tiled floor. Her brows lifted at her unexpected visitor.

He had left her jaded the night before, so mystified she almost felt as though her mind had made up the bittersweet reunion; although one could blame it on the alcohol as well. The two of them had skipped out of town; leaving their ghosts in the rearview mirror. Yet here they were, picking up the pieces and prickling their fingers on their broken lives in Beacon Hills. She couldn't get over how grown up Derek looked, here he was staring at her, thinking the exact same thing.

Nikita leaned on the door frame, not yet inviting Derek in. "So that was you...last night."

Derek Hale stood on the other side of the door arms crossed and body tense, his brow raised as Nikita stared at him with a blank expression. He nodded towards the inside of the house. "Can I come inside?" She didn't even need to answer as he pushed his way past her and into the house.

The brunette was still in a state of shock and confusion as Derek walked into the kitchen and spotted Stiles. The lanky boy paled over at the sight of the werewolf, Nikita walked into the kitchen to join the two as they stared daggers at each other.

"You guys know each other?"

Neither of them cracked a smile, the tension was so thick Nikita swore she was in the middle of a western showdown. Finally Stiles, who was drowning in muted turmoil, broke the silence "I- I need to go."

Nikita sat on a stool next to the kitchen island as she watched Stiles practically run out the front door, she let out a sigh. "Thanks for scaring away my friend, does he owe you drug money or something?"

Derek's expression hardened, unimpressed with Nikita's musings.

"I'm just saying...you have that look to you." She pointed out.

Finally, a warm smile cracked through Derek's impossibly tough exterior. She could see he genuinely missed her, it was more than confirmed when he pulled her in for a tight hug. Nikita wrapped her arms tightly around Derek, holding him there for a moment, enjoying and taking in the embrace; it had been far too many years. He looked different, he felt different, he smelt different; yet so much of him remained familiar to her. Like the way he squeezed her back before releasing her.

"You think I scared your boyfriend away?" Derek's devilish grin causing her to smile as well.

She let out an exaggerated puff of air, blowing a strand of deep chestnut hair out of the way. "He's not my boyfriend."

Derek's friendly expression dissolved, in its place the stone cold man returned. "I know who your boyfriend is, are you sure you want to date that douche bag?" Clearly Derek had a distaste for rich white boys who drove recklessly in their father's porches.

Nikita's brows wiggled up and down. "He's a charmer, isn't he."

At her sarcastic words he inhaled deeply, his deadpanned stare fixed on her. "Anyways." Derek began."I came here to give you my condolences in person. And I came to see if you're okay."

It was weird, someone asking her such a simple question, if she was okay. It was even weirder coming out of Derek Hale; whose tone of voice sounded so rigid and almost uncertain. Either way she appreciated it.

"Thanks." She managed to say.

"Okay well...glad I got to see you." With that Derek turned on his heels, heading out.

"Wait! That's it!?" Nikita tailed him, following him right on his heels." I haven't seen you in years and that's all you have to say to me?" She was incredulous of how dismissive Derek was being of her.

Derek continued to walk to the door without even bothering to throw a glance back at Nikita, just like Walter, he was avoiding Nikita as though she were a plague to him, in fear of her curious mind finding out about the supernatural.

"Is what they say true about Laura. The girl they found in the woods?"

Derek gritted his teeth as he began walking faster, her pace picking up along with his.

Nikita's mind was over flooded with questions and curiosity, no one would ever give her answers, in fact they would avoid her all together."You know I cared for her, I cared for all of you, why are you all being plucked off one by one?"

Derek finally passed the foyer and reached the door, Nikita relentless as ever. "What are you not telling me?"

He finally turned around and faced her with a pointed look in her direction. His halt so abrupt Nikita nearly bumped into him. "Just stay out of the preserves, got it?"

Nikita used her best Derek voice to mock him " Just stay out of the preserves. Way to answer my questions."

Having said his piece and seeing Nikita without distractions, Derek made his way to his Camero, stopping momentarily to look over his shoulder. Nikita was against the doorframe, arms crossed, the look of disappointment pulling on her soft features.

She shook her head, watching Derek speed down the street, black car vanishing from her line of view.

* * *

Stiles' POV

Both he and Scott peered around the corner to see Walter Grace walking down the hospital corridor. Stiles had no clue what Walter looked like up until now. He was a rather tall man, burly, strong looking especially compared to men of his age. Stiles swallowed thickly, the man was rather intimidating. Stiles wondered if he spent his free time polishing his six shooter on the porch waiting for Jackson's smug face to show up.

"He can't know I'm here." Scott whispered, his whisper still not hushed enough.

The two of them were on the morgue floor, trying their best to remain incognito. They would certainly get thrown out if they were caught. Stiles sucked in a breath as Walter's footsteps came closer and closer.

The doctor stopped as soon as his pager went off, Stiles let out a sigh, it must have been an emergency, or just really really good luck. Either way, he was relieved. Walter retreated, allowing Stiles and Scott to come out of hiding.

"Alright, we find the body, half body, that was discovered in the woods." Stiles's voice still low in fear of being caught, laying out a clear and precise plan for the two of them. "And you sniff her."

"That's disgusting." Scott groaned as they walked down the hall, towards the morgue room.

The cold hit the two of them as soon as they opened the door, effectively keeping them focused and alert. It was like walking into a rather large refrigerator, bodies in stainless steel lockers all along the walls. Stiles couldn't help but to shiver, not from the cold, but from the creepy feeling of being in a room filled with bodies that once held life.

It was Stiles' idea to come here. His decision fueled by Derek showing up at Nikita's. After he left Nikita's place...more like driven out by Derek Hale, he knew he had to find a way to bring the werewolf down. Stiles didn't trust Derek for a second, finding him to be a threat. He certainly didn't want to leave Nikita in his presence either, but this had to be done.

Scott pointed out the other day that the Hale property smelled different. Stiles went with his intuitions on this one, there had to be a body buried on the Hale property. If Scott could get a match on the scent, the same as the Hale property, then they could put Derek away forever.

His best friend pulled open the sliding locker, the white label read 'Jane Doe.'

The two exchanged uncertain glances, a moment of hesitation. Stiles gave Scott a nod, a sliver of encouragement. With that, Scott pulled over the white sheet covering her body, the body tag carefully tied around her big toe. Stiles' eyes began to water, never had he been so up close to a cadaver, in fact it was the first time he had seen a dead body; not as exciting as he thought it would be.

Scott pulled away, his brows meeting in the middle with contemplation. He looked to Stiles and gave him a nod, confirming the scent indeed was a match.

"Alright Scotty." Stiles started. "Grab your shovel, we're going digging."

* * *

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, please let me know what you think :]


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello everyone! Thank you so much for all the reviews last chapter. I'm so glad people are liking this story and its character developments. ITS SO SCARY DOING A MASSIVE REWRITE, but you guys have been so supportive on this journey. It means the world to me.**

 **Shoutouts to: MaddieRose, Brisita, It belongs in a museum (seriously thank you), Wildrecklessyouthinme, Dubonet, Missjanuarylily, Eleanora Argent, Princessdarkness12, and Susie samurai!**

* * *

 **-Jackson's POV-**

The morning bell went off with a shrill ring, signalling the start of first period. In moments the halls cleared until it was just him in the hallway. Footsteps approached him with a hurry. It was Jonesy, with his backpack slung lazily over his right shoulder, his glare dead set on the captain of the lacrosse team.

"What is _this_!?" The wrestler asked irately, holding his phone up to Jackson, dropping his backpack to the floor with a dull plop.

Jackson crossed his arms over his chest, looking anything but bothered. "It's a text message I sent you thirty minutes ago."

Jonesy's eyes narrowed on him, if he knew how, he would be shooting Jackson a death stare. Instead he read the text message Jackson sent out loud. "I forgive you."

"That's right, I forgive you." Jackson's tone matter-of-factly and genuine all at once, for he truly believed this was a stepping stone to mending whatever they were. "I'm extending the olive branch, practically waving it in your face."

The dark haired boy blinked hard, appalled and rather dumbfounded by how the bar seemed to place higher and higher when it came to Jackson's arrogance. It took a moment of contemplation for Jonesy, his lips turning into a hard line.

"No." He said plainly.

Jackson shook his head, confused at the bluntness of a word he was not used to hearing, ever.

"What do you mean no? Don't you want to be friends?"

It was a desperate attempt at grasping for something that was never there to begin with. Jonesy and Jackson were never really friends, hardly acquaintances in the beginning. Yet somehow Jonesy found a way to stumble into Jackson's life during a hard-pressed confusing time. And if Jackson was being frank, he sort of missed having Jonesy around. He missed the deep conversations they used to have, there was something reassuring and comforting about the two of them being adopted.

"I don't care if you want a friendship with me." Jonesy started. The two of them by the lockers with no one else around.

"You're sort of a dickhead." The dark haired boy stated so dryly. "You're a homophobe, afraid of yourself,and you treat everyone like garbage."

" Stop complaining, I never treated you like garbage!" Jackson snapped, delusional and steeped heavily in his own denial. He wasn't prepared for such rejection.

"Really? What was that a few nights ago at the party? Foreplay?"

Jackson let out a scoff, eyes glancing over the taller boy's frame, drinking every bit of him in with a pleased smile. "You loved torturing me with hours of foreplay."

"And you say you're not gay?"

"Don't fool yourself, you were a one off mistake." Every word Jackson spoke a clear lie, Jonesy could see through the petty facade, but chose to ignore it.

"If I remember correctly, you found yourself in my bed more than once."

Jackson shrugged. "I don't recall."

The boy shook his head in disapproval, patience wearing thin. "I was the idiot who thought I could be the special someone that had a shot at fixing you, proving to people you're not actually an asshole. And Nikita has fallen into the same tangled web. She'll figure you out and what you did to her soon enough."

"You can tell her if you like." Jackson's lips turning up into a smug grin, the challenge was clear in his baby blue eyes. He knew Jonesy wouldn't have the heart to do so."You can tell her what happened the night of the party. Go ahead, break the news to her."

"Maybe I will."

A hollow threat.

Jackson let out a laugh as he opened his locker, back facing towards the taller boy. "It's not like she'll do anything about it, she has no one anyways."

Jackson's locker slammed shut with a bang, causing him to jump. The taller boy had pressed his palm against the locker door. It was a startling show of dominance which came as a shock to Jackson, he had always thought Jonesy to be weaker than him. As tall as he may be, Jonesy was the gentle type, easy going and often kind. Clearly Jackson had crossed some sort of line.

"She has me." Jonesy said in a steady agitated voice. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Jackson, what defines you, what makes you happy-"

How moronic he felt as he relished in Jonesy's honeyed words, it caused his heart to skip a beat. A spark of hope ignited in Jackson, one he hadn't felt in a long while. He couldn't begin to describe or explain the things he felt for Jonesy. For weeks his mind had become a jumbled mess. And now his body was nearing towards the boy, subconsciously reaching out to grasp at Jonesy's finger tips. For a split second Jackson's eyes landed on those plush lips, remembering the first time he had kissed Jonesy, it had also been the last and only time.

" -So you can get fucked and leave the rest of us alone." And just like that the spark of hope had been extinguished. Jonesy finished, grabbing his backpack from off the floor and leaving Jackson to roll his eyes, a poor facade for someone who just gotten metaphorically donkey kicked in the stomach.

It was difficult finding careless words to throw at Jonesy likes knives, distracted when someone down the hall cleared their throat. The two of them turned to find a grown man with midnight black hair and a leather jacket. his skin washed out to a chalky white, dots of sweat covered his forehead, and his grey eyes burned into the two of them. The stranger before them wore a foreboding demeanor, and although Jackson wasn't threatened, he couldn't help but to tense up. He looked to Jonesy who was just as uncomfortable as him, eyes glued onto the sickly looking man.

"I'm late to class." Jonesy muttered, picking up his backpack.

Jackson's hand shot out to wrap firmly around Jonesy's arm, but he pulled his arm away. He watched as Jonesy made his way down the hall, the man approaching Jackson now that he was about to be alone. The stranger and Jonesy made eye contact in passing. He watched as Jonesy's brows furrowed together, the usual warmness and kindness behind his blue eyes now ice.

Jackson was the only student around jock was busily shoving books in his locker, brushing off whatever happened moments ago in hopes the stranger wouldn't approach him. Nonetheless, he did

"Where is Scott McCall?" There was no sweetness in his tone as though he were pressed for time.

It did nothing to faze Jackson as an amused smirk emerged on his face. Being the captain of the wrestling team and lacrosse team made Jackson the Alpha of the school, someone showing him up meant nothing to him. He looked the man up and down, assessing him to be non-threatening for the terrible shape he was in.

"And why should I help you?" The top corner of Jackson's lip curling up in distaste.

The stranger simmered in silence.

It was then he remembered Scott McCall and how out of the blue he started excelling at lacrosse. Scott McCall the most uncoordinated fool, next to his twig of a friend Stiles. Jackson was certain the weasel was shooting up black market steroids. And the man before him looked like he just took a hit of a bad batch. He needed to know what Scott was taking, he needed to expose him.

He had to square up now, puff out his chest in a show of dominance. "How about you tell me what you're selling him?"

The stranger pushed past him to find Scott, Jackson was foolish enough to grab his arm "I'm talking to you!"

In a blink of an eye Jackson's arm was painfully twisted behind his back, the side of his face pressed against the cold metal of the locker. He gritted his teeth, a piercing unmistakable pain shooting through the back of his neck. And at once he was released. Jackson's hand immediately went to the back of his neck, feeling the slick warmth of blood there. The man who had just attacked him looked concerned through his sickly gaze. He took off without another word, leaving Jackson dumbstruck.

* * *

 **-Nikita's POV-**

"Hey there Peter! It's Kiki!" She said while shooting finger guns. Nikita strode into Peter's recovery room, trying her best to exude all types of positive energy in hopes of overpowering the dreary atmosphere of the hospital.

She had brought him greasy fast food, a five star meal compared to the cardboard looking hospital food. Nikita was certain he would appreciate it, he would appreciate what was in her book bag even more. Her English class had just started Franz Kafka's The Metamorphosis, and she thought Peter might enjoy her reading to him.

Unfortunately, Nurse Ratched - Nurse Jennifer- who had taken a strong dislike for Nikita, was in the room with him.

"You can't just barge in here!" She snapped, hands frantically smoothing out the skirt of her crisp overly-starched white uniform.

"Visiting hours." Nikita reminded her cooly, plopping lazily into the armchair across Peter, her sunglasses still on. He blinked slowly at her presence, Nikita greeting him with a dimpled smile, kindly removing her sunglasses, pretending the nurse wasn't even in the room.

Visiting Peter every so often had become somewhat easier, even then she felt a bundle of nerves once in awhile. Instinctively her fingers went to feel the silver heart of her necklace, pressing her thumb against the initials, NGCH. Peter's eyes remained on the necklace, following intently as she ran the heart back and forth on its chain.

I don't think your presence is a suitable influence for Peter, he needs time to rest and recover." Nurse Jennifer not having the decency to remove the dislike from her voice.

Nikita's eyes narrowed on her, focusing on the red lipstick smeared across her teeth, the tight bun which pulled her skin over her face, like cling wrap. The disinterested teenager leaned back into her seat, legs crossed, and hands rested firmly on the arm of the loveseat.

"And I believe your presence isn't needed at all." Her tone cold as ice, causing Nurse 'Ratched' to scowl.

"I'm not going to be belittled by-"

Nikita interrupted before Jennifer could even start."Peter, if you want her to leave, just blink slowly."

Without hesitation Peter lowered his eyes ever so slowly, taking his time as though mocking his nurse, and keeping them there for a moment before opening his eyes once more. The tips of Jennifer's ears went bright red, shooting daggers right into Nikita's smug face.

"I think that means get out." Nikita added the obvious, making no effort to hide her triumphant smile. Peter blinked slowly once more, rubbing salt in Jennifer's wounded ego.

She stormed out without another word, slamming the door behind her. Probably marching her way to Walter, tell him off for having a hand in raising a brat. The idea of it pleased Nikita, she was hoping Walter was getting an earful right now.

Nikita's attention returned to Peter, his deep oceanic eyes locked onto her again. With her feet she dragged her seat closer to Peter. "Guess what?" She said between the screeches of her seat grinding against the linoleum.

"Coach already thinks I can bring the cross country team to CIF next semester. And I already beat my own record by another four seconds."

She knew if Peter could, he would smile, boost her ego and tell her how she was better than the rest.

"Pretty awesome, huh?"

Her deep hazel eyes lit with bewilderment at the sight of Peter's sudden lopsided smile. The right corner of his lip pulled up, the left in place, the nerves must have been destroyed there. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him smile. He used to be a man who smiled often, and now just doing so was a difficult task. It lasted no more than a few second, even then, Nikita found herself welling with tears. Peter making so many small improvement in such a short amount of time since she arrived in Beacon Hills made her heart swell.

Nikita dabbed the corner of her eyes with the end of her sleeve, reciprocating Peter's smile.

"Uhmm, I brought something!"

From her bag she pulled out the book, showing the cover image of a black beetle to Peter. "I kind of need to do some homework while i'm here. I can read it aloud if you like?"

Peter responded with the slow blinking of his eyes.

* * *

Her two hours with Peter went by in a blink of an eye. Nikita drove past rows of homes in her mini cooper, as usual going faster than the marked speed limit. Her eyes set steadily on the curvy road ahead of her as she neared towards her next destination.

Nikita had always thought of herself as loyal. Although she hid her true self from Jackson, she had never uttered a lie. However, there were instances such as this that would remain unspoken between the two of them. Like Nikita hanging out with Jonesy for a few hours after school. Jonesy, the one who Jackson absolutely showed no sign of kindness towards. The decision was hers entirely, hers alone. Jonesy simply asked if she wanted to come over and listen to music, seeing how Jonesy was one of the few people who had similar interests with her, she decided it was a good idea. Besides, she was comfortable being in his presence, not once had she felt him put any sort of pressure on her.

Nikita put her car into park in the Jones driveway.

The quaint victorian home was painted in a faded sunshine yellow. Delicate fingers of vines covered the face of the home, purple buds that had yet to blossom. It certainly stood out amongst the rest of the cookie-cutter beige and eggshell colored houses on the cul de sac. The Jones residence sat at the end of the neighborhood, far from the other homes, but not cut off from society. Nikita couldn't help but to admire the adorable home, wiping her feet on the welcome mat before knocking on the white oak door.

She rocked back and forth in her chestnut brown ankle boots and rubbed her hands together, creating friction to keep warm.

In a matter of seconds she heard the sound of feet pounding down the steps. She could picture it now, Jonesy making his way down the stairs in a hurry, filled to the brim with excitement, jumping over the last few steps to get to the door. The door swung open, giant vivid blue eyes greeted her, blue eyes that always seemed to hold a sense of adventure and mischief. Jonesy looked as always, the band shirt of the day was: The Velvet Underground & Nico, white shirt, black sleeves with the iconic yellow banana print. His dark brown hair so dark it almost looked black, like usual, was unkempt, like someone had just run their fingers through it. Sex hair. He sported Levi jeans, ripped at the knees, and laces doubled across his classic high tops. The look suited him, something only Jonesy could pull off.

"Sup." Jonesy lifting his chin and leaning against the door frame all casual and cool like. His fingers worked carefully at the chipped paint.

Nikita's thick brows danced up for a moment. "We're supposed to hang out today, or did you happen to forget?"

Jonesy feigned confusion, fingers still chipping paint off the edge of the door frame. "Really? I don't recall."

The palm of her hand pushed at his shoulder, nudging him backwards, like one of those inflatable clown punching bags he came back. Her saucy smile came out to play. "Shut up Jonesy, stop acting like you're too cool for me."

It was clear he was having a hard time keeping a straight face with how the corner of his lip twitched, fighting the urge to smile. "Please don't make this more awkward than it already is, Niki."

Nikita was very much into humoring Jonesy, going along with his game. It was nice having silly conversations and banter, words that didn't revolve around lacrosse. With a shrug of her shoulders Nikita said " Alright, see you at school."

" NO WAIT!" Jonesy's hand wrapped gently around her wrist. " I have to show you my record collection!"

It was impossible for Nikita not to let out a dramatic gasp, the kind where one has to cover their mouth. She was starry eyed, Jonesy could tell. Really, who could ever say no to a record collection? Jonesy nodded his head towards the the house, inviting her in.

The interior of the house was just as charming as the outside, it looked like something out of Good Housekeeping Magazine, every HGTV lovers dream come true. A vase of fresh flowers sat on every flat surface. And although the subtle scent of gardenias was everywhere, Nikita couldn't help but to notice the sweet and delicious note of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies lingering in the air. Natural light flooded into the rooms through the white French windows, allowing the warmth of it to wrap around them, melting away any cold she felt in her bones. The golden specks of dust motes floated and danced about gracefully, adding even more to the rustic aesthetic of the home. A large bay window with a cushioned bench peered out from the back of the home, facing the back porch and the edge of the woods. A perfect nook for one to cozy up and read a book. Red exposed brick -which stood out against the white walls- made for a rather large fireplace, a basket of thick knitted blankets sat to the right of it.

Jonesy must have noticed her admiring the fireplace, watching her gravitate towards it. Nikita imagining a winter's night, bundled up in one of the faux sheepskin blankets, laying before a crackling fire.

"Olivia makes the best hot chocolate."

Nikita's brows met together, a faint crease forming above the bridge of her nose. "Who?"

"My mother." He said so matter of factly. " She owns the Choux A La Creme Bakery, in the town center. And she makes the best hot cocoa from scratch."

"Her?" Nikita pointed to a framed photo that sat atop the mantle, a photo of a lovely woman with warm honey blonde hair, eyes the color of faded sea glass, and a wide pearly smile. She was wrapped in the arms of a man with darker features, she safely assumed he was Brody, the man who worked often with her father. She had never met Brody before, yet to see him, until now. Beside that photo, a portrait of a stoic and dashing looking young man strapped into a military combat uniform. His hair a sandalwood brown and eyes much the same as Olivia's. The name Young embroidered on his uniform patch.

Rows of photos sat on the red brick mantelpiece, just the sight of them made her envious. It got Nikita to think of her own home, and how bare the walls were. No family photos were displayed through the home, even if they were, there would be no visitors to see them. Jonesy was beside her now, admiring each ornate frame. His eyes remained on one in particular, his smile growing as he looked to it longingly. It was a photo of two boys, the eldest of the two holding a mountain of blue cotton candy.

"Is that your biological brother?" Nikita asked, grabbing the frame to inspect it more. Jonesy -the younger one in the photo- proudly wearing his Spider-Man face paint.

She had heard of Jonesy's brother and his reputation of being a genius through the halls of Beacon Hills, and out of the mouth of Mr. Harris -her chemistry teacher- who absolutely adored the older Jones brother, and hated practically everyone else who had attended Beacon Hills High. Mr. Harris never missed an opportunity to remind young Jonesy what a high standard his brother had once set.

"Yep, that's him." Jonesy started.

"This is my brother from the same mother. But this brother-" he indicated at the photo of the boy wearing the military uniform " is my brother from another mother who adopted us so he's technically still my brother from the same mother, but more nuanced? Are you following me, Nikita?"

Nikita's face distorted in confusion, his words coming out so fast."..Huh?"

She noticed a striking visual contrast between the two brothers, with Jonesy's hair being nearly ink black, the older brother, Alex, being a pale blonde, even their facial structures were different. It was in the eyes though, the two of them with their glacial-like blue eyes.

"Has anyone ever told you that you and your brother from the same mother-the not nuanced one-don't look very similar?"

Jonesy took back the frame, wordlessly, placing it face down on the mantle. The energy in the room shifted into a more serious tone, and already Nikita wanted to curse herself for her big mouth. Jonesy's eyes now downcast, staring at the ground, as though looking at Nikita was a shameful thing to do. She wasn't sure if an apology was in order, uncertain of what she had done, she didn't mean to hurt Jonesy. The anxious girl brought the sleeves of her sweater to her lips, nervously chewing at the green ribbed fabric, waiting for Jonesy to say something.

He cleared his throat. "That's Alex...we don't talk about Alex."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." Jonesy said with deep lamentation, a convincing act. He drew in a deep breath before looking at the ceiling, looking at the heavens like his guardian angel was watching over him. "We don't talk about him...because he was adopted from the zoo. He's still sensitive about it, still adapting to being housebroken. But we love him anyways."

Nikita blinked hard, walking blindly into that trap. Jonesy's serious expression shattered and he found himself in a fit of laughter. She slapped his arm with the sleeve of her sweater.

"Damnit Jonesy! You made it sound like he died or something!" Although she found herself to be angry for a split second, she couldn't help but to laugh along with him.

"Nah, worse, he's working a cubicle job in Chicago. Now let's go look at that record collection."

" I'm starting to think it was you who was adopted from the zoo." Nikita following him throughout the house, admiring its quaint beauty.

She noticed the stainless steel fridge decorated with scribbled crayon drawings, school awards, and even more photos. They all brought a smile to her face. Even more so when she saw the door frame marking the brothers height throughout the years, their initials A.V.J and J.J written in black ink, Jonesy's being the tallest.

"Probably." Her friend admitted.

"Speaking of adoption, do you think your mother could adopt me?" Nikita was partially kidding, but the home looked like it belonged to people who were currently living a happy loving life.

Jonesy let out a chuckle. "I wouldn't joke around Nikita, she will probably try to at some point."

They reached the top of the stairs leading up to the bedrooms when the house phone went off. Jonesy stopped in his tracks at the sound of the ring-tone. "It's probably my mom, I should get this. I'll just meet you in my room."

He paced down the stairs again, leaving Nikita at the bannister, and making it unclear which room belonged to him. She walked down the bedroom hall, even more photos tacked to the wall. The two brothers had certainly been adopted into a happy beautiful family.

She opened the door to which she assumed was Jonesy's room, far from it. It looked like it belonged to an eight year old boy. The walls were filled with posters of intergalactic constellations and galaxies. Posters of Bill Nye, Carl Sagan, and Neil Degrasse Tyson hung over the white work desk. A large baby blue Columbia University pennant -with its crowned crest- amongst other top notch Ivy League Universities tacked over the bed. The bed comforter itself decorated with prints of rocket ships and stars. The ceiling, of course, filled with stick on glow in the dark stars. Someone clearly had a hard-on for space.

Nikita let out a snort of laughter at the sight of the room as she still lingered by the door. The room looked like it belonged to someone who would wear a shirt that stated something cheesy like "We are all made of stardust."

Her smile slowly diminished as she caught sight of the bright object across from her. The sun had hit it at the perfect angle, causing a gleam to catch in her eye. It stood out from the rest of the room. Nikita walked closer to the brass antique telescope which sat upon a polished mahogany tripod. It looked like it was from the olden days of Galileo, yet so sleek. Nikita, who had the urge to touch it, ran her fingers over the cold brass, picking up a layer of dust as she went along the smooth surface.

"Pretty cool huh."

She turned to see Jonesy leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, a small smile painted on his lips.

"It's so pretty." She admitted.

"You know what's even prettier? Me on stage with my band, Lugosi."

She rolled her eyes "You're so shameless in your advertising."

His shoulder rose and fell with a shrug. "You should come out to one of our shows, way better than freezing in the bleachers during a lacrosse game."

Admittedly this was true, Nikita would much rather enjoy her time at a concert ,which was more her element than a sport she didn't care for. But that would mean ditching her boyfriend, and that would mean Lydia chasing her with a pitchfork, and that would mean drama.

"Anyways." He started again, wanting to change the subject and take Nikita out of the awkward position he put her in. "Let's go look at that record collection."

Jonesy needed to say no more, Nikita, herself, already in a healthy and steady relationship with music. His collection was impressive alright, taking up half a wall. Nikita stood in awe of its beauty, seething with jealousy. It was like standing before a Monet or a Manet, she always confused the two painters. Hundreds of records stacked inside the shelf, such names like Cat Stevens, David Bowie, and Pixies stood out. Leaning against the rather large shelf of records was a black on black Gibson guitar, glossed like it were made of pure obsidian. His room a bit untidy with a pile of clothes building to the heavens on his computer chair, in the corner a rather large desktop computer sitting atop a pile of mechanical parts.

"You build computers?" Nikita even more impressed with Jonesy, who always wore a slacker demeanor. She had already learned so much about him in just twenty minutes.

"Sometimes." Jonesy admitted. "My brother is usually better at these things. But I started this and I finished it on my own." The pride in his voice undeniable. He was beaming, his infectious positivity already spreading to her, dissolving her usual cynical ways. Jonesy had that ability about him, chiseling through concrete hearts with little effort.

The two of them stopped to exchange puzzled glances when a vibration went off in the computer. Jonesy patted himself down, in search of something; letting a frustrated groan when he figured out where it was.

"Please tell me that wasn't your cell phone…" It was Nikita's turn to face the battle of keeping a straight face, for Jonesy had royally messed up by leaving his cell phone inside a computer.

Jonesy fell to his knees in defeat over the obnoxiously large and outdated -by at least two decades- desktop. His pale slim fingers snaked through his messy midnight hair. "My baby is in there."

"Sounds like those medical horror stories you see on T.V where the surgeon leaves a scalpel in their patient. Or a comical Grey's Anatomy episode. One of the musical episodes..."

"I always hated that How to Save A Life song by The Fray." Jonesy muttered to himself, still staring deeply at the computer.

"You're not going to be a surgeon like your father...are you?" Nikita added more insult to injury with her sass.

" Pediatrician." Jonesy sounding more upset than enthused.

" ...Well that eases my worries." Her voice stale and sarcastic. "Why did you make this thing anyways?"

"I just really wanted to play some vintage Pac-man and Donkey Kong, ya know?" Regret laced onto every word.

He looked over his right shoulder to Nikita with what she would describe as puppy eyes. He must have used them many times before, kept locked and loaded in his arsenal for a time like this; because they were most certainly working.

"Let me see your hands." He ordered.

It was an odd request, but many things about Jonesy seemed to be odd anyways. Nikita lifted her hands, wiggling her fingers for him to see.

Jonesy's eyes narrowed on her, examining her hands. "Has anyone ever mentioned how freakishly small your hands are?"

"Are you really insulting me right now?" Nikita responded, stuffing her hands in her armpits and hiding them from her friend.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just...can you even reach an octave on the piano?" Jonesy tilted his head, trying to get a look at her hands which remained hidden from him. "You know what, nevermind. I need your hands."

"I have a boyfriend, you already know this." Nikita thoroughly taking pleasure in watching him in his moment of struggle.

He let out a hiss at the mention of her boyfriend, Jackson. " I'm usually one for sexual innuendos, but nobody likes a smart ass, Nikita. I'm kidding, I enjoy your sass. Don't ever change. Now get over here and stick your hand in my slot."

She almost choked on laughter, surprised by Jonesy's choice of words. "My slot." He said again, this time more seriously. " I need you- see this floppy disk slot? The disk drive."

Nikita knelt beside him, observing the made in the 80's piece of giant easy bake oven knock off. Jonesy's fingers carefully pulling off the interface from the floppy disk slot, making it wider, wide enough for a small hand to slide in there. She understood, he wanted her to blindly slide her hand in there and pull out his cell phone. Jonesy was using his puppy eyes on her again, big blue eyes no one could ever say no to.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." She let out a groan before rolling up her sleeves and sliding her hand into the slot.

" You're the best, Nikita. I promise to buy you a hook for a hand if things go wrong."

"Yeah I might need one if this thing decides to go Skynet on me."

Her fingers wiggled about, getting a feel for the inside of the computer. She could feel the rough bumps on the surface of the circuit board, the chips and capacitors making up the internal mainframe. She had never stuck her hand in a machine for a boy before, but there was a first time for everything.

Jonesy let out a pompous snort of laughter. "Are you an Eighties movie buff now? I suppose it makes sense with your name being Nikita."

She turned to look at him, hand still inside the computer, incredulous and surprised he even knew the movie which her name was derived from. The name Nikita was commonly derived from the winged Greek Goddess Nike, the goddess of victory. Although her mother had made it very clear that she was named after a French Indie flick of a recovering addict femme fatale. Nikita, herself, was far from being a femme fatale.

" That movie actually came out in 1990." She pointed out.

" Oh...well I think it's cool that your name is Nikita." Jonesy gushed. "It's a strong name, you know? It suits you."

It was only natural to smile when handed a compliment, especially one so genuine, one coming from Jonesy.

"And I really like Luc Besson movies." He admitted.

"Like Nikita?" She asked, fingers still wiggling about.

"Especially Nikita."

"I don't know, I'm more of a Fifth Element type of girl." She could now feel the smooth surface of Jonesy's I-phone, using the tips of her fingers to pull it in closer to her.

Pure excitement flickered behind those vibrant sapphire eyes, Jonesy ready to unleash a nerdgasm. "I can't tell you how many times I've seen that movie! I used to have a gerbil named Korben Dallas. I accidently stepped on the lil fella."

Nikita turned to face him, hair whipping in her face. "You did what!?"

"ANYWAYS." Jonesy continued his riveting tale. "He became paralyzed from the waist down, and had to drag his little body everywhere. It was Alex's idea to tape Korben to a tech deck, you know those toy skateboards you ride with your fingers? He became a speedy fucker and lived for another three years."

Laughter took a hold of her with the silly image of a gerbil speeding across his desk. The Phone now almost in her grip, although Jonesy was throwing her off her concentration.

Finally she was able to get a grasp on the phone, her grip hardly fitting inside the computer. "I got it!"

"I knew your abnormal-freaky little hands could do it!" Jonesy cheered.

With the phone in hand, it enlarged her grip, making it impossible to slide out of the disk drive. Jonesy's brows met together at the first sign of her struggling to free both herself and the phone. She found herself in another fit of laughter, having never found herself in such a predicament before. Only with Jonesy would she find herself in amusing, story telling, odd ends. Her laughter causing him to crack up as well.

"Stop laughing, I need to get you out of there." His words hard to choke out between the laughter.

"I can't help it." The muscles in her face impossible to control, her cheeks starting to hurt and eyes starting to water. "Do you always invite girls over to stick their fingers in your-"

"Nikita, I swear." He couldn't help the way his voice cracked while in the midst of laughter, hoping she didn't notice, the humiliation would be endless.

Jonesy's grip wrapped around Nikita's wrist, hot and firm, determined to help release his friend from the death trap doom machine. He pulled back on her wrist, and with a good hard yank both she and the phone slid out of the computer.

The cell phone remained tight in her grip, holding it up like a state fair prize. A smug smile pulled on Nikita's lips, brows dancing up and down. She handed the phone back to him, which he took graciously.

"Are you okay?" Jonesy concerned for the well being of her hand, relieved she didn't need to live the pirate life.

She nodded, fresh tears of laughter now drying at the top of her cheeks. "I admit, Jonesy, I've never had a dull moment with you."

"Well you're dating Jackson Whittemore, so I imagine there's not too much going on in your life."

Nikita was taken aback by the sudden jab, in an instant it sucked the energy out of the room. She couldn't even find the words to defend herself. She understood that he and Jackson had a very obvious dislike for each other, but dragging her into their pissing contest wasn't very fair.

His eyes narrowed on her, almost surprised that his insult towards Jackson had offended her.

"What, you actually like him?" Jonesy asked, completely miffed as to why anyone would genuinely like a jerk like Jackson.

"He's my boyfriend." Nikita stated plainly.

"...That doesn't answer my question."

She rolled her eyes and got up to her feet, thoroughly done with the topic of conversation. Wishing Jonesy didn't open his mouth and spoil what could have been a fun evening.

"Niki." His voice softer this time, lacking remnants of frustration.

Nikita left the room, making her way down the hall, Jonesy on her tail. "I don't buy for a second you're this naive, Nikita, please tell me you're not this naive."

She turned around suddenly, shooting Jonesy a look of indignation, a look commonly served to Walter. Stares as cold as this usually got people to shut up, but he just couldn't seem to let go.

"I don't get you Jonesy, you invite me over only to insult-"

"No, I don't get you." Jonesy piped in. "Half the school knows your boyfriend slept with your 'best friend' the night of your party. And you still find the need to defend Jackson and remain friends with Lydia. Are you that desperate? Or are you just scared of being lonely?"

His words pierced right through her. No words had been truer.

She must have been transparent to Jonesy, he could see right through her like she were made of glass. Of course she knew Jackson had slept with Lydia the night of her party, she was not nearly as naive Jonesy and everyone thought her to be. She had spent hours looking for Jackson and Lydia the night of her party, the two of them missing half the night. And when she had found Jackson, she tasted the remnants of her cough syrup like strawberry gloss on his lips. Nothing had tasted so bitter and so vile than that lip gloss, the taste of betrayal impossible to wash out. Even then she found it difficult to let go of Jackson, even with his toxicity, and generally being a shitty human being. If she let go of him, she would have to let go of Lydia, let go of Danny, let go of status, let go of a social hierarchy...one she never asked for. But it kept her occupied, it kept her distracted from the harsh realities of her life: A recently deceased mother, a man she refused to call father, and the fact she was back in the sleepy town she left behind in the dust.

Jonesy had seen the weight of his words, like a bundle of bricks hitting her square in the face. The muscles in his face softened, the anger in him subsiding, he didn't mean to come off so strongly. "I'm sorry, I just don't want you to-"

"Make a fool of myself?" Nikita's fingers curled tightly around the bannister.

"- get hurt."

She shook her head, disappointed in her friend. "Well, you already did a great job of that."

Nikita made her way down the stairs despite Jonesy's watching from the top of the bannister. Humiliation and anger simmered beneath her skin, she could feel the heat rising, reddening the apples of her cheeks. Nikita left the house, deaf to Jonesy's heartfelt apologies.

* * *

The day had been much too long for Nikita, it wasn't even eight yet and she wanted to crawl into bed. Nikita slumped on the couch, turning on the T.V. Walter wouldn't be home for another six hours, the empty house was once again hers.

She let out a puff of air, blowing a strand of chestnut hair off her face. Already she felt bad for walking out on Jonesy like that, she valued their blossoming friendship too much to shut him out. Jonesy's words had yet to leave her, if he knew about Jackson and Lydia then the whole school knew. They knew of her spineless cowardice, they knew Lydia her only 'friend' had stabbed her in the back.

"A few more years." She told herself. "And you'll be out of here."

Just then the doorbell rang, Nikita let out a groan, rolling her head back. Maybe they would go away if she just stayed silent. No such luck, the doorbell rang two more times; the person on the other side impatient. Begrudgingly she went to the door, only to find Jackson on the other side.

Now would have been a great time for Nikita to slam the door in his face, but any ideas of fighting had fled her. She was already emotionally spent. However, Nikita knew she had to end things with him, tonight.

"Did you forget about our date?" Jackson lowered his aviator sunglasses to look at her, his charming smile looking more like shit now that Nikita could take a step back and truly see him for what he was.

"Of course not." Her voice honey coated as best she could.

The two of them walked out, Nikita following behind Jackson. She would end things, thank Jackson for the lovely night, walk out and never look back. If it meant she would spend the next few years alone, disgraced from any social standings, so be it.

"So what have you planned for us tonight?" Nikita asked, thinking of ways to let him down gently. 'Just like waxing your legs,' she thought to herself, it would have to be quick.

"Well uh…" Jackson started, nodding his head towards the silver porsche parked beside the curb. A certain redhead comfortable in the passenger seat, checking herself out in the mirror.

"She sort of invited herself."

Nikita clutched at her purse tightly, wanting nothing more than to fill it with bricks and clock Jackson in the face with it. Clearly Jackson didn't understand the meaning of a date, and Lydia had already sunk her greedy little claws into him.

"Let's go." Lydia honked the car horn impatiently.

Nikita inhaled deeply from her nostrils, biting down on the flesh inside her cheek. "Where are we going?"

Jackson pulled the driver's side door open, the orange and pink marbled sky reflected in his sunglasses as he looked to her. "Video store, I thought we could watch Rudy or something."

"The Notebook." Lydia corrected, strawberry blonde hair twirling between her perfectly polished fingers.

The muscles in Nikita's face pulled together to create a stone hard frown. She lowered herself to the passenger window where Lydia sat. "We're not watching The Notebook." She spoke slowly, coating each word in venom for Lydia to digest.

"We're going to watch Kill Bill instead."

Lydia scrunched her nose in distaste. "What's that one about?"

Nikita's eyes landed on Jackson before cutting back to Lydia again. "Oh, you know. Classic tale of a woman getting revenge on the people who have wronged her." Just like that her dimpled smile appeared again.

Both Lydia and Jackson looked uncomfortable, one would think they were sitting on ignited coals with their pained expressions. Nikita tapped the the top of the car twice before hopping in the back seat. The pair had yet to move, Jackson's hand tightening over the top of the steering wheel.

Nikita sat in the middle, poking her head between the two. Any ideas of letting Jackson off easy were out the window, and Lydia? She would be in the line of fire as well. "Why aren't we going?" She asked with forced enthusiasm in her face.

It may have been a long night, but it was about to be an even longer night for Jackson and Lydia.

* * *

 **Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! And yes, Nikita will be at the video store in the next chapter :]**

 **Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. The plot will thicken with the next chapter, and expect a lot more of Stiles!**


	7. Chapter 7

Hello everyone! Thank you to the wonderful handful of you who reviewed last chapter, you're all so amazing I swear :]

lots of love to: Allbyz (you're so sweet), It belongs in a museum ( yooooooo) Dubonet (Willkita 4 lyfe) Recklessyouthinme ( I can't wait for your story you have no clue) Ms. Fortunate (thank you for being with me since the last time I wrote this) Kissageckos (thank you so much for listening to me talk about my story all day long, thank you for reading the last version, thank you for still caring ;_;)

I honestly can't do this without you guys, once again, thank you to the wonderful reviewers.

xxx

* * *

The car ride to the video store was the very definition of uncomfortable. Open an Oxford dictionary and one would see an image of Lydia and Jackson's constipated expressions next to the word. The two were mute, drowning pitifully in their restrained silence, but to Nikita their silence was the most gorgeous tune she had ever heard. She wondered if they felt any sort of guilt, or were they truly the monsters Jonesy had told her about? Nikita's 'boyfriend' slept with her 'friend' and neither seemed too bothered by it. In some twisted way Nikita felt like it was her own fault...most likely it was. It's not like she was the world's greatest girlfriend, she rarely showed affection, in fact the most action Jackson got from her was a few gropes here and there over the shirt. In some ways this was her own doing, dating someone who could never pique her interest, so she never showed any real interest back. So what if she didn't put out for a jerk like Jackson Whittemore? She was angry the more she thought of it, very angry.

But most of all...she was feeling petty.

Nikita sprang from her seat, hand shooting for the radio dial as she poked her head between Jackson and Lydia. "Oh my gosh!" Her voice oversaturated with false sweetness to cover the bitterness that festered beneath. She looked to one then the other with a plastic smile. "I just loooooove this song."

The volume went up as Alanis Morissette's 'You Oughta Know' blasted through Jackson's Japanese imported sub woofers, he was probably regretting the money he spent on those fancy speakers now.

"Such angsty lyrics!" Nikita tried to shout over the bass, but it was near impossible. The music was vibrating through their bones, rattling in their skulls. Nikita swore if the speakers could go any louder they would blow through the windows.

With her head still poking between Jackson and Lydia " I wonder who pissed her off!?"

Her boyfriend -soon to be ex- tightened his grip on the steering wheel, skin pulling tight over his knuckles as the loud music grated in his ears, yet neither made a move to lower the volume. Lydia managed to crack a frigid smile, too afraid to make eye contact, too afraid to cover her ears. Nikita plopped down into her seat, hand firmly placed on both Jackson and Lydia's shoulders, singing the song as obnoxiously as she could.

The porsche jerked to a sudden stop, Jackson just inches short from hitting the parking curb. He was in a hurry to remove himself from the situation judging by how fast he unchecked his seatbelt and shot out of his seat; one would think he was sitting on a bed of hot coals. Nikita hopped out of the car while Lydia took her time. The strawberry blonde had barely opened the door when Nikita bumped it shut with her hip.

"Oh no no, no need." Nikita started.

Although the window was rolled up, she knew Lydia could hear her.

"Nah, Lyds, you stay here and guard the car. I trust you to watch over things like I trust you with _my_ boyfriend." Nikita making no effort to thaw the ice in her voice. A lopsided grin pulled at her pink stained lips at the sight of the color draining from Lydia's face.

Nikita ran into the video store to join Jackson. As she suspected, the video store, antiquated in its own, empty, seeing how Netflix was a more viable option. Nikita pulled out her phone, finding Jackson's number and deleting it at once, along with their past text conversations.

"Stupid girl." Nikita berated herself under her breath.

Stupid for letting her walls down and allowing Jackson in.

Stupid for wasting time with temporary people.

All her attention firmly set on her phone as she called out Jackson's name.

There was no response, Nikita assuming he was sick of her immature games, or looking for a hole to crawl into, desperate to get away from her. The fluorescents above her flickered violently, finally garnering her attention. Nikita left her phone, and she looked up.

"Hello?" She called out, once again no one was there to answer her.

A wave of nausea hit her, the tips of her fingers went numb at the sight before her . A lifeless body was strewn across the floor in an unnatural position. A ragged gash marked from his neck down to his belly, the store clerk laying in a puddle of his own blood. His innards threatening to spill out, for what once held him together had been ripped open. She was -without mind- walking backwards, feeling unreal and putting distance between her and the body. Mossy green eyes laid transfixed on the gore, so much so she accidently bumped into the ladder behind her.

The lights cut out.

Nikita opened her mouth to let out a blood curdling scream, before she could Jackson covered her mouth with his hand. Even though he was behind her, she could tell it was sharp and spicy scent of his Tom Ford cologne tickled at her nose, the warmth of his breath crawling across back of her neck; and he whispered-

"There is something in here with us, be silent."

Silence is exactly what she served Jackson, although Nikita swore she could hear her knees knocking together from the relentless tremors that rolled through her body. Only when the frightened girl nodded her head in understanding Jackson removed his hand. The two of them slowly backed away, careful not to make any sudden movements or startling sounds. Jackson had a vice grip on her sleeve, like she was a child about to wander off into the darkness. Just then the two of them heard the unmistakable sound of a growl. Nikita couldn't help but to let out a sharp scream.

Quickly she covered her mouth with both hands, it was already too late.

She had messed up.

A head dive into a huge mistake.

Another low growl came from the employee room where the corpse remained. In an instant, much too quick Jackson let go of her arm and broke into a run, leaving Nikita stunned for a moment and unable to move. In his mind he assumed he didn't have to outrun whatever murderous creature was with them, he just had to outrun Nikita. Jackson was blindsided, forgetting his girlfriend was the fastest person on the track and field team, easily surpassing the captain of the lacrosse team. His head turned to look at Nikita outrun him with little effort on her part, so distracted he ran into the sale bin, knocking over both himself and the DVD trolley.

Nikita had reached the door, seconds away from breaking free when she turned to look over her shoulder, Jackson on the floor surrounded by scattered dvds. After a regretful split second of hesitation - wondering if she wanted to save his self-serving ass- she ran back for Jackson, grabbing the hood of his jacket and yanking him off the floor. She noticed it then, the angry red mark etched into the back of his neck, but the dire situation gave no time for questions. She had shoved Jackson behind a video shelf, splitting them apart and hiding behind the shelf across from him.

The only option was to cower in the farthest corner. The sound of her heart was pounding rapidly in her ear, like a war drum banging right against her skull. Her eyes landed on Jackson who was crouched in the aisle across from her. For the first time since she met him she found raw fear within him. He looked much like a small child. His sky blue eyes desperate to find some sort of comfort in hers, Nikita had nothing to offer, she was just as scared as him. In that moment she forgot the anger she felt for Jackson Whittemore, wanting him to tell her everything would be alright. She needed his reassurance, she needed to know things were going to be okay.

The growling grew louder as the creature walked down the aisles, closer to them. It had to be the mountain lion that was causing the animal attacks, Nikita and Jackson would be added to the ever-growing list of casualties.

The pit of her stomach twisted and turned, she already wanted to throw up. Never had she been in a situation where her life was on the line. Her first instinct was to lean against the shelf and close her eyes, hoping the mountain lion would just leave. Her eyes flew open to the sound of Jackson whispering her name, his head nodding towards the rectangular box next to her that read 'light rods'.

She bit her lip while contemplating an escape plan; her mind too frantic and her thoughts untamed and clouded by fear. Another loud growl ripped through the air as the shelves on the other side began tumbling down like a domino effect on Jackson. She shouted his name but it was too late as a shelf pinned him down. Jackson screamed her name, his voice strained and lone girl from Los Angeles was not made of bravery, she could never stand on her own two feet and face problems without wanting to crumble. Nikita pulled out a bulb and grabbed the light tube, scooting closer to the edge of the shelf, her ever-shaking hands wrapped around the light tube like a nun clutching to a rosary.

In her hands...it became a weapon.

The shadow of the beast lurched closer and closer, just mere inches from their row. Fight or flight had so delicately intertwined itself with an unexpected rush of adrenaline. Nikita jumped out from behind the shelf and blindly swung a powerful home run. A loud yelp was let out by the creature followed by the immediate shower of glass. Nikita fell backwards as projectile shards flew towards her. Her eyes remained closed, sensing the micro shards that dusted the top of her cheeks and rested beneath her eyes.

This time an earth shattering roar blasted through the room, followed by Jackson's whimper. With her eyes still shut while she began scooting backwards as fast as she could, in attempt to get away from the mountain lion. Little shards of glass bit into the soft flesh of her palms, smearing her blood across the carpeted floor. Every muscle in her body felt like it had been rusted, all movement ceased as soon as she felt cold wiry fur brush up against her arm, Nikita's breath escaping her. Within seconds her whole body went cold, a dull ache radiated in her bones as though she were immersed in biting cold water. With eyes still shut she could sense the creature standing next to her, it smelled of fresh blood and wet pines.

Undoubtedly a creature of the woods.

She was drowning in an ocean of fear, and the mountain lion circling its kill like a shark; relishing in the scent of her blood. The creature was studying her, calculating her strengths, observing her weaknesses. Out of instinct her shaky fingers tangled themselves in the thin silver chain around her necklace, as though it could provide her with some sort of courage.

Perhaps it did.

Nikita opened her eyes to be obscured by complete blackness, only to see red savage eyes staring back at her. Her scream begging to claw its way out of her throat, yet no sound was made. Within a heartbeat the creature pounced over her and out through the window, shattering mindlessly through the glass.

* * *

Stiles' POV

"Unit 1 do you copy? "

The radio went off, Stiles' hand shot out to grab the walkie, only to have his father slap it away. At once Sheriff Stilinski answered the call, shooting Stiles an annoyed look. The two of them sat in his squad car; patrolling for the night. This was his favorite way to bond with his father, sitting with just the two of them outside their favorite burger joint. Lately the two of them had been so busy, it felt nice to slow down and unwind with his father. The happy teenager stuffed a handful of grease drenched curly fries in his mouth as he leaned back in his seat. It was the first night he had without having to deal with werewolves or Derek, even so, things were on red alert.

Stiles looked to his father, who was now wearing his serious Sheriff face. Something big had taken place, judging by the forlorn expression. Stiles sat straight, smile curving across his salt specked lips.

"It's a good one isn't it."

"Animal attack at the video store."

"Let's go!" Stiles shouted, finger flicking the siren switch before his father could even reach it.

Blue and red lights danced off the oil slicked asphalt, the sharp shrill of the police siren ushering cars aside. In moments they had arrived at the video store, a few squad cars and an ambulance already there.

"This is what happens when you don't use Netflix." Stiles muttered to himself. His dark eyes followed his father as he met with the other deputies. He was told to stay inside the car, to wait, but that was like telling a dolphin not to swim, a bird not to shit on a car. In short... Stiles' restless and curious nature was kicking in.

He hopped out of the car to see Lydia hysterical and in tears, another officer trying to console her. A rock dropped to the pit of Stiles' stomach at the sight of her. Lydia was someone he knew, someone he cared for, even if those feelings weren't reciprocated. This attack hit him much too close.

"I just want to go home, that's a basic concept to understand, especially for a rent-a-cop like you!" Stiles' head snapped to the side when he heard Jackson belittling his father.

And if Jackson was here-

"Way to show respect, Jackson."

-There she was.

Stiles sucked in a breath at the sight of Nikita. She walked towards Jackson, just emerging from the back of the paramedic truck. Her dark chestnut hair had been pulled back into a delicate bun, allowing for wisps of loose strands to frame her heart shaped face and revealing a series of scrapes that ran across the top of her cheek. His eyes traveled down to see both of her hands had been wrapped carefully in bandages, the paramedic urging Nikita to come back to the ambulance; she was already zeroing in on Jackson. Her eyes, darker than the earth beneath them, landed on Stiles, acknowledging his presence for a moment before boring back into Jackson.

"Just answer the questions so we can go home." She partially begged, desperation laced into frustration. Stiles could tell she was frightened, how could she not be?

He moved towards her, placing a hand on the small of her back, offering comfort the only way Stiles knew how; touch. The couple began to bicker and right away Stiles withdrew his hand, maybe it wasn't the best idea.

Sheriff Stilinski stood between the couple looking at the two of them like he was watching a pair of olympiads going at it over a match of table tennis. His patience was wearing thin, finding it difficult to get a word in.

"I'll pretend you didn't say that, you're clearly too shaken up to form a coherent thought." Jackson snapped as the two stood face to face.

Stiles felt his anger build to the surface, no girl should ever be treated or the way Jackson treated Nikita. In fact no person should be treated the way Jackson treated everyone.

"Jackson." Stiles started calmly. "Just answer the-"

The Jock pointed a finger to Stiles, robbing his opportunity to speak. "Hey benchwarmer, shut up before I decide to shove you In a locker tomorrow."

The Sheriff's face went red with anger, but he could do nothing at this point as other deputies joined to watch the argument. Jackson starting to feel like a cornered animal with all the people silently partaking in the spectacle, it only fed into his anger and frustration.

Nikita wagged her finger in Jackson's face "You can't just talk to people like that!"

Stiles' happy heart was floating like a balloon, Nikita actually stood up for him. The two of them had formed a solid foundation of a friendship. That's what friends did, they stuck up for one another. Yet he couldn't contain the excitement he felt when he was near her.

She turned to look towards Stiles "I'm so sorry, he can be such a jerk somet-"

Jackson grabbed her arm, his lips pinched into a straight line. "I guess now would be an appropriate time to tell you."

She turned so suddenly to face Jackson, chestnut tresses slapped Stiles in the face, he didn't mind. "You have to be kidding me-"

"Crap." Sheriff Stilinski muttered under his breath.

"You're not doing this here." Nikita warned.

"You're nothing but dead weight to me Nikita, I've been moving forward in life and you're still stuck... where you are." Jackson went on.

Nikita threw her hands in the air with defeat before bringing them back to rake through her silken hair in distress. "You can't dump me!"

" I'm dumping your ass." Jackson finished, nodding his head as though to confirm to himself.

The Sheriff and Stiles exchanged looks of pure shock. "Is he really doing this right now?" his father whispered.

For a moment Nikita didn't say anything as she was on the verge of tears, processing the very cruel breakup. She looked like a glass deer, so fragile and chipped away at. Stiles had only seen her as stubborn and sharp. He had never seen her look so vulnerable and small, it was almost unsettling. A sudden urge came over Stiles, he wanted nothing more than to hold her, comfort her.

Gently she bit her bottom lip and looked down, nodding her head at the asphalt. When she looked up Jackson fell to the ground, followed by Lydia's loud shriek.

Nikita had punched him square in the jaw, knocking him down. His ass dropped to the ground like a sack of flour. Everyone's mouth, including Jackson's, went slack, his hands cradling the red blotched skin of where he had just taken a right hook.

Stiles had never thought to see anything like this in a million years. The intensity and victory so overwhelming, he had to excuse himself from the scene to run inside his father's squad car.

"Fuck yes!" Stiles screamed, fist pumping the air. A few officers were looking at him with blank stares, he didn't care as he hollered and cheered to himself loudly. Nikita just did what Stiles, Scott, and half the lacrosse team had been wanting to do for years.

Stiles stepped out of the car calm and collected, like nothing had happened, running his fingers over the short bristles of his hair. He noticed his father and Tara holding Nikita back, a raging bull she was. Jackson was still on the floor holding the right side of his jaw. The raw red bruise deepening in color already.

"I can't believe you Jackson! I just saved your life back there!" She screamed as her small hands reached out to grab him, wanting nothing more than to throttle the life out of him.

"You punched me! What the hell is wrong with you!?" Jackson cried out, rudely swatting away helping hands.

"Come a little closer and I'll give you a matching bruise on the other side." Nikita's eyes aflame with pure loathing.

"Do it, do it." Stiles thought to himself, trying so desperately to hide the smirk that threatened to pull across his lips.

Finally Sheriff Stilinski and Tara were able to pull Nikita away from Jackson. She had seemingly given up, letting out an irritated puff of air and walking back to the paramedic truck.

"Do we charge her with battery?" Tara said half jokingly, her smile pulling to the side.

"I saw nothing." Sheriff Stilinski retorted, his expression unreadable, but nothing short of serious.

Lydia kindly helped Jackson up, mascara streaking her flushed pink cheeks. It seemed like his father had everything handled with Lydia and Jackson. Stiles trotted after Nikita, who had seated herself in the back of the medic truck. He had yet to wipe the victorious smile on his face, wishing he could do an instant replay on Jackson getting decked in the face.

"What are you smiling about Stilinski?" her head was rested against the door; Nikita looked like she had been to hell and back. Even though she just had a traumatic night she still found it in her to throw a playful jab or two at Stiles with her brazen ways.

His smile fell, Stiles was being selfish, celebrating the fact that she was sat next to her "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." A small smile graced her face, her bottom lip trembling. Nikita was trying her hardest to hold herself together, falling apart before Stiles.

"Hey, it's okay." Stiles assured Nikita as his hand rubbed her back, feeling her tense beneath his touch. "Just let it out, I won't judge you." That was all it took as she buried her head in his chest and let her emotions pour out like a broken dam. His chin rested on top of her head, he inhaled the soft scent of her jasmine perfume.

He truly was sorry that she was involved, somehow Nikita had become strung up in the Alpha's antics. An innocent bystander, who Stiles would do anything to keep safe. He, Derek, and Scott had yet to figure out the identity of the Alpha. The murders occurring in town were alarming, but this really lit the fire under their asses. This was a direct hit, garnering their attention. Without meaning to, Stiles ran his fingers through her warm chestnut hair.

It hit Stiles, a gorgeous girl was literally crying on him. He had never found himself in a situation like this before. Both his hands went in the air, unsure if she wanted him touching her. Stiles found it hard to gather words of relief, he never knew how to handle others crying, especially girls. Scratch that, he never knew how to act normally around girls, ever. Heat rushed to the surface of his skin, fanning across the apples of his cheeks and burning the tips of his ears. His hands were still held out, not sure where they were supposed to go. Around her waist? Around her shoulders?

Nikita pulled away, with a scrunched expression that screamed 'what the hell, Stiles?' Clearly unsatisfied with Stiles' ability to comfort another.

Stiles licked his bottom lip, understanding he clearly messed up. But he needed to know, he needed to know how deeply involved Nikita became after tonight. "I know you've been asked a million questions…But what did you see in there?"

"I-I don't even know...Red eyes." Her voice muffled in the sleeve of her sweater. Stiles let out a sigh of relief, it would be relatively easy to persuade her it was only a mountain lion.

Stiles' eyes traveled upwards to the roof of the video store. There Scott and Derek stood over the edge, viewing the chaos down below. The hatred was clear cut in Derek's steel blue eyes, they glowed with a ferociousness. Stiles felt the hairs on his back stand on end as he locked eyes with Derek. The Beta was ready to spill blood, no one could tell him otherwise.

Their mission was understood: find the Alpha, and put an end to him.

* * *

 **Nikita's POV**

She sat in the Sheriff's office, head leaning against the cold wall, right hand aching and cradled in her left. Stiles sat quiety next to her, never had he been so silent and still, it would have concerned Nikita if she weren't so tired. His presence, oddly, was much needed, more than she would care to admit.

"Thank you." Her voice came out a squeak, like someone had stepped on a mouse. She squeezed her eyes shut, humiliation overridden by exhaustion.

Stiles looked to her, that pitiful look she constantly found herself trying to dodge, Nikita sank in her seat.

"I want to make sure you're alright." His voice soft, trying not to alarm her.

Nikita didn't get a chance to speak when Jackson went off again. Every two minutes he would flip out and shout at Nikita from where he stood, never failed, like Sheriff was keeping him in the waiting room, by the front desk, keeping distance between the two. She could hear profanities spewing from his abnormally large mouth, his voice starting to crack with anger. Nikita rolled her eyes and picked up the gold plated plaque off the Sheriff's desk, his name etched in black. The framed photo across from her caused her to smile, Stiles saw her looking at it and made an attempt to reach for it, in hopes of hiding it from her. Nikita was faster, snatching the photo off the oak desk. The grin on her lips spread, pulling the fresh scabs tightly over the tops of her cheeks.

She admired the photo of a child Stiles, her eyes darting between him and the photo, drawing comparisons. The Stiles in the photo had skinny knobbly knees, a freckled smiling face, proudly displaying a rainbow trout he had just reeled in. The photo itself was kept in a hand-made popsicle stick frame. Nikita let out a small laugh, remembering when she and Cora had to make these back in elementary school.

Stiles shot her a deadpan stare. Before she could say anything he began. " Don't mock my bowl cut phase."

"I'm not! Look how adorable you were, what happened?" Nikita pressed the edge of the frame next to her cheek, like one would nuzzle a kitten.

"Ha ha. My father still calls me a handsome man." Stiles snatched the photo back, holding iit against his chest protectively, like shielding a child from their cruel cruel world.

Nikita blew a strand of her hair out of her face. "Yeah I guess you're not too shabby."

"Yeah you're not too bad."

Nikita's brows lifted at Stiles' thinly veiled compliment, which she would have retorted to if it weren't for Jackson going off once again.

This time the Jock stood up, Lydia grabbing him by the arm, trying to keep him restrained with no luck. He made a move towards the office, he came close enough so that his breath was fogging the window looking into the Sheriff's office. Both Nikita and Stiles averted his gaze, not wanting to stir more trouble.

With his finger pointed at Nikita. "I'm going to have my father sue you." Jackson's words sounding dry and raspy, from all the shouting prior. "I'm going to sue the Sheriff, then i'm going to sue you, Nikita. And I'm going to sue your father for having a hand in raising-"

"-Sit your ass down, boy."

Nikita looked up to see Walter standing right behind Jackson, his grip firm and white to the knuckle over her ex-boyfriend's shoulder, his presence stone cold. The co-captain of the lacrosse team looked absolutely mortified, his soft blue eyes bugging out. Walter's burly figure imposing over his. It was one of those rare moments - maybe the only- where Nikita was glad to see her father.

"And don't get up." Walter's burning gaze keeping Jackson glued to his seat.

Walter marched over to the Sheriff's office, trying to contain the urge to run right over to his daughter. As soon as he opened the door Stiles got to his feet, stiff as a board like a military man. "H-hello Mr.- Dr. Grace."

Walter, still donning his white Doctor's coat, looked Stiles up and down, confused to why the teenager was there in the first place. "Do I know you?"

Stiles, with his mouth agape, looking much like a fish out of water, carefully cleared his throat. " I uh, I'm the Sheriff's-"

"-That's nice." Walter cut in. "Can I get a moment alone with my daugher?"

The teenage boy had yet to move from his place, either in awe of Walter's stature up close, or seemingly too afraid to do so. He had heard much about Walter from Scott. From what his best friend told him, Walter was the kind Doctor dating Melissa McCall.

Walter's brows knitted together at the sight of the awkward boy in front of him. "Now would be nice."

"Y-yes sir." Stiles obliged quickly, in such a hurry to run out of the office he knocked over the trash bin and the contents inside it. Taking a split second to bend over and clean his mess, only to catch Walter's death gaze. He left before Walter could say another word, making sure to close the door behind him.

"He means well." Nikita emphasized.

A moment of terse silence followed. Nikita unsure of her father's expression, unsure of how he felt until he dropped to his knees before her; pulling her into a tight embrace. Nikita's arms still at her side, taken aback by the uncommon display of affection. She wanted to pull away, and ask him where this was during her mother's funeral? Nikita was tired, she was defeated, the day had been far too unkind to her. It felt like this was the beginning of all things, trouble would seek her no matter where she hid.

A soft breath escaped her lips, and she rested her forehead on her father's shoulder for a moment.

"I want to go home." She muttered.

Walter pulled away, mossy green eyes had yet to be unclouded of worry. "Im a moment, I just want to check on you."

He rested her hands on her knees, gently unwrapping the bandages off her hands. "Damn medics did a poor job of wrapping you up." He groaned.

The cool air kissed the fresh cuts that had been cleaned and slicked over with a thick layer of Auquaphor. Nikita bit the bottom of her lip feeling the sting that radiated across the delicate skin of her palms. She watched Walter, the way his strong brows moved together and up upon studying her hand. Nikita had never seen her father at work, never noticed how the faint creases on his face deepen with thought.

Walter pressed his thumb into the back of her hand. The pressure was minimal, Nikita pulled her hand back with a hiss.

"Did you ruin Jack-ass Whittemore's pretty face?" Walter gave her an impish smile, his eyes glimmering with an unmistakable sense of pride at his wonderful dad-joke.

She let out a chuckle, wondering how she never thought of that nickname. "Will you be mad if I say yes?"

His grin widened, deepening the laugh lines around his mouth. " I need to teach you how to throw a proper punch."

"Why's that?"

Once more, Walter pressed his thumb down on the back of her hand, the sharp ache making Nikita cry out. "Crap!"

"Sorry...you have a boxer's fracture."

"Great. And I suppose you're going to teach me how to throw a punch?"

Walter's fingers ran through his dark mane."First rule of throwing a proper punch is having the right form. never tuck your thumb into a fist. You're lucky you didn't break your thumb" He showed her by making a fist, his thumb resting across his index and middle finger. " Keep your arm level to your shoulder. And don't bunch too tight."

He gave her shoulder a playful pat. "You'll be knocking boys off their feet in no time."

Nikita's brows met together, confused at the sage lesson that was being handed to her. "How many people have you punched in your lifetime? And are you encouraging me to punch boys?"

He never bothered to answer her questions, which only filled Nikita's mind with even more questions. Walter got up to his feet, ready to leave. "You'll need a splint for a week. You'll be fine. But we need to go back to the hospital."

Nikita's head rolled back, staring at the pock marked ceiling, mouthing some of her favorite swear words. She finally got to her feet, ready for the night to be over. The two of them walked out of the office. Jackson and Lydia seated just outside, the Sheriff nodding his head at their departure. The angry red bruise on the side of Jackson's jaw had grown to the size of an orange, now mauve in color. Both father and daughter held Jackson in a matching scathing glare, to which he couldn't compete with.

"You're going to need to ice that, son." Walter insisted, before the two of them walked out.

* * *

[[[I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! It was pretty fun writing it, I'm going to miss writing highschool drama before diving into the deep dark angst! Please let me know what you thought!]]]]

Also, for those of you who never listened to ' You Oughtta Know' by Alanis Morissette ( you should also listen to the Killing Moon version) and don't know the lyrics:

I want you to know, that I am happy for you  
I wish nothing but the best for you both  
An older version of me  
Is she perverted like me?  
Would she go down on you in a theater?  
Does she speak eloquently  
And would she have your baby?  
I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother

'Cause the love that you gave that we made  
Wasn't able to make it enough for you  
To be open wide, no  
And every time you speak her name  
Does she know how you told me  
You'd hold me until you died  
'Til you died, but you're still alive

And I'm here, to remind you  
Of the mess you left when you went away  
It's not fair, to deny me  
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me  
You, you, you oughta know

You seem very well, things look peaceful  
I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know  
Did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity?  
I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner  
It was a slap in the face  
How quickly I was replaced  
And are you thinking of me when you fuck her?

'Cause the love that you gave that we made  
Wasn't able to make it enough for you  
To be open wide, no  
And every time you speak her name  
Does she know how you told me  
You'd hold me until you died  
'Til you died, but you're still alive

And I'm here, to remind you  
Of the mess you left when you went away  
It's not fair, to deny me  
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me  
You, you, you oughta know

'Cause the joke that you laid in the bed  
That was me and I'm not gonna fade  
As soon as you close your eyes, and you know it  
And every time I scratch my nails  
Down someone else's back I hope you feel it  
Well, can you feel it?

And I'm here, to remind you  
Of the mess you left when you went away  
It's not fair, to deny me  
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me  
You, you, you oughta know


	8. Chapter 8

Hey guys! Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed my chapter, it means so so so much to me, and thank you to my new followers! You guys are so amazing and keep me so motivated! I'm glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter.

Shoutout to: Maddie Rose, January Lily, The Chosen Pen, xXBriannaXx, Ms. Fortunate, Princessdarkness, WildrecklessyouthInme, and It Belongs In a Museum!

I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter :D

* * *

She had been wrapped in the harsh biting snares of the supernatural, only be dangled before him.

" Subtle but smart move,"Derek thought to himself, the Alpha going after Nikita.

The Alpha, whoever they were, knew Derek was after them and must have known of Derek's persistence to pull such a stunt. The Alpha had nearly attacked Nikita - with evident knowledge of their withered friendship- as if sending a message to Derek. Derek was not to follow. Even after the events of tonight the Beta would stop at nothing to seek out the monster that killed his sister.

Derek's shadow, willowy and long, carried through darkness as he softly made his way down the hall, careful to not make a sound. The night was Derek's companion, most often it was his only companion. Unlike many, he found peace in the dead silence, the stillness of it all. The faint and filtered silver light of the moon seeped through the window, illuminating a path to her room.

He had shown up in the hour before the sun rose, twilight. Some would call it the hour of the gloaming, when noir star speckled skies kissed soft tangerine clouds, and world was under a spell of slumber. Derek couldn't possibly sleep, not with what had occurred earlier. The Beta had to see Nikita, make sure she was alright, make sure she wasn't scratched or bitten.

The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on ends at the unmistakable sound of a chamber being loaded. The click and slide of the gun sounded heavy and metallic in his ears.

Derek put his hands up in surrender, not wanting to stir trouble.

"You couldn't use the front door like everybody else? I thought you were an intruder." Walter's voice hoarse and groggy.

Derek could still sense the six shooter pointed at the back of his head, swallowing thickly at the idea of his brains being blown out and decorating the walls of the Grace home. "Do you think you could maybe put that down?"

Walter lowered the gun, slinging the strap over his shoulder. Derek finally turned to look at him, the Doctor's hair a mess, the buttons on his deep maroon pajamas mismatched. Walter wasn't getting much sleep either by the looks of it. Derek's cold grey eyes landed on the handle of the gun, the maple wood etched upon with an intricate flower, wolfsbane laced bullets.

"Nice gun."

Walter gave a short shrug of his shoulders. "I'm not really a gun enthusiast. I purchased this to protect my daughter."

"You can't really do that when you're not really home." Derek spoke so effortlessly, releasing cutting words without meaning to.

Even in the pitch darkness Derek could see Walter's hardened expression, dislike and agitation rolling off of the Doctor with an unease.

" I'm busy saving lives, Derek, casualties of the Alpha that you promised to stop."

Derek's body tensed up, anxious. Walter didn't understand how much Derek had dedicated himself to finding the monster that murdered his sister. The Beta would stop at nothing until he felt the pulse of the Alpha diminish under the clutches of his teeth. He and Scott had been trying their best, yet things were so rocky and unclear.

"We have no leads yet, but-"

"-And why didn't you tell me Kate Argent was back in town?" Walter raked his fingers through his thick dark hair, cutting Derek off.

He knew this question would come up eventually. Derek had never formulated an answer, finding the time had been hard recently. Maybe he didn't say anything because he didn't want to admit how terrified he was, for the woman who destroyed his family was roaming his city like she owned it. Maybe it was because as soon as Walter found out, he would push Derek away from him and Nikita. Derek didn't have much left in his life, apart from Peter, his family was no more.

Walter's inquisitive stare had yet to leave Derek, reading into him, or possibly seeing right through him, waiting to see the newest addition to Derek's menagerie of lies. Either way, it made Derek's feet shift where they stood.

"I didn't know how to tell you."

The older man didn't buy it for a second. He took a in a deep breath. Derek's heart sank as the corner of Walter's lips wilted, knowing all too well what would come next.

"Derek, you know very well I care for you. I bear the same love for you that I bore your father." Walter started. Derek's father and Walter had been long time friends, since their teen years. The two of them had gone to highschool and medical school together, the very definition of brothers by choice.

"I know." He didn't mean for his voice to sound so rough, but with the lump rising in the back of his throat it was impossible…

Walter's eyes now averted to the floor. Derek knew it was because of how strongly he resembled his father, it brought back old ghosts for Walter. "You want me to leave Nikita?"

"I want you to leave town."

"No." Derek's response immediate.

Walter said nothing allowing the silence to settle between them.

"I'll cut off all communication from Nikita if you want me to, keep her far from the supernatural. But I won't leave town, not until the Alpha that killed my sister is dead."

It seemed Walter was in no mood to argue, letting out a sharp and defeated sigh. His head nodded towards Nikita's door. "Go say your goodbye. If I don't see you again, take care of yourself."

The salty scent of sorrow lifted off Walter, hope had been snuffed out; Walter lacking faith in Derek's endeavors.

Derek started his journey once more, feet padding softly on the carpet.

"And see if you can get the Sheriff's kid out of there." Walter added, his voice low careful not to wake up his daughter. " The little twerp can't seem to grasp at my hints."

Derek let out a groan before opening Nikita's bedroom door, the last person he wanted to see was the walking talking sarcastic machine-gun-mouthed Stiles Stilinski.

Sure enough, as Walter had said; Stiles was sitting beside Nikita's bed, she was fast asleep. He too had fallen asleep, hunched over in an uncomfortable position, sitting upon a chair. Derek knew it was Nikita who had asked Stiles to stay. No matter the tough act she put on, she needed someone she trusted beside her during moments she felt vulnerable. Sleep was the most vulnerable of times for anyone, especially after an attack, and to know she was being watched over gave her solace...a chance to sleep.

It irked Derek how Stiles cared for Nikita. Even if he was good natured, cunning and intelligent; he would never be good enough for her. She needed someone who was stoic and strong, someone who could protect her, someone who would go to the end of the world for her. Stiles couldn't do much with his noodle arms, or go far with his piece of junk car. He could only offer her lackluster jokes, random annoying twitches, and dry sarcasm.

Stiles' body suddenly jerked as he woke, he jumped again upon sight of Derek, as per usual shrouded in the shadows. "What the hell Derek!" Stiles trying his best not to raise his voice, instead it came out as a high pitched squeak.

"What are you doing here?" Derek stepping towards Nikita's bed, his eyes immediately falling on the thin silver chain around her neck; Cora used to have a necklace just like it.

"She asked me to. Anyways, I could ask you the same. How do you know her again?"

Derek's tolerance of Stiles seemed to inch lower and lower each and every day. He could imagine Stiles' frail neck beneath his iron grip.

"Go home, Stiles. I got it from here. And stop being creepy."

Stiles let out a snort, the tips of his fingers running over the short bristles of his buzz cut. "Creepy? You were chilling in the shadows seconds ago. Pot vs. Kettle my friend."

Derek shut his eyes and took a deep breath in to calm his frustrations. "Shut up."

"Like the crow calling the raven black."

"Stiles, I swear."

" Caramel vs. Cara-mel."

Stiles was seconds away from starting one of his mini spasmodic rants; Derek had to shut him down before he got in too deep. Derek's eyes opened, bright cobalt blues burning right into Stiles, a sharp glare of warning held him into place. Stiles' brown eyes wider than two saucers.

"Fine!" Stiles hissed, grabbing his beige canvas jacket off the chair. "She doesn't remember much, and thinks it was a mountain lion, so try not to mess this up."

As soon as Stiles left Derek turned to Nikita, who was still fast plopped himself onto the chair that Stiles had occupied earlier, it was still warm. He would have to leave before she woke up, or it would be rather particular for her to find him instead of Stiles. A small smile worked on his features, he almost envied how peaceful she looked. She had yet to deal with sleepless nights, the worry and constant paranoia that came with being immersed in the supernatural world. She didn't know what it was like to constantly check over her shoulder, thank every day she survived. And he hoped she never would have to. Walter was right in keeping him away from her. Trouble seemed to follow Derek like a lost dog, and he would never forgive himself if he tainted Nikita's world, for she was the only good thing left in his.

" I saw what you did to Jackson, that was pretty amazing. A little sloppy on the delivery, but I'm proud of you, Kiki." He hoped someone would teach her how to throw a proper punch, so she could continue putting guys like Jackson in their place. If Derek's situation was different, he would have liked to be the one teaching her.

He snaked his fingers through his midnight hair, unsure of what more to say, he couldn't bring himself to say goodbye. For if he did, he would truly be alone.

So Derek got up, done with his brief visit,taking one last look at Nikita and committing her face to memory if it came to a true goodbye.

* * *

 **-Walter's POV-**

He had gone through four ties for this.

The first tie screamed 'I work in an advertising firm set in the sixties.' with its geometric shapes.

The second had a wine stain he had yet to work out.

The third looked like his late mother had picked for him, in fact she had, a deep gold tie with silver paisley patterns.

And the fourth, Melissa bought him after going through his closet and deciding he needed more professional wear. Walter's wardrobe only consisted of comfortable clothes, a few black tie attires, and his usual Doctor's coat.

Walter's finger worked in the knot of his deep burgundy tie, loosening it for he tied it much too tight. Cobalt lines thin and thick ran from the right corner of the tie, down to the left. A British Regimental Striped tie is what it was called, according to Melissa. His hands came down to smooth the sleeves of his navy blazer, feeling like an idiot when Brody strutted down the school hall in his white coat.

"Nice." Brody greeted upon seeing his friend. They hardly ever saw each other out of doctor uniforms.

Walter shifted uncomfortably in the loud plush seat, emitting annoying friction sounds . He was new to these things, parent teacher conferences. Never had he been to one before, it used to be his late ex-wife's job to go to these things, Nikita's mother. Now it was his turn.

"How do these things go?" Walter asked his friend, who had taken a seat next to him.

Brody's dark eyes landed on him, a twinkle of amusement dancing behind them, or was that the harsh fluorescents reflecting in his eyes? "Well the first step is to show up, so you're doing great so far."

He knew Brody was being genuine, what he said was enough to spark some sort of confidence in Walter. " What do I do if the teacher says Nikita is performing poorly?" Walter's voice at a whisper, almost afraid someone would hear him doubting his own daughter.

The Chief of Surgery's attention was on the dried blood stain on the edge of his white sleeve, carefully rolling them up to cover it up. " You tell the teacher you'll do your best to work on it. Which you will do." Brody giving him a stern gaze. "Like with Jonesy, he abides by a flexible set of standards that I have set, and challenges himself to meet them."

Walter blinked hard, it sounded so profound yet so simple at the same time. Brody and Olivia clearly knew what they were doing when they adopted their sons all those years ago.

"Unless that teacher is an idiot, in that case you tell them to shove it where the sun don't shine. And another piece of advice? Stop being so scared of your own daughter."

"She's just so angry." Walter lamented, which drew laughter from Brody.

" You had to reattach a man's penis after a scorned lover cut it off, and you still find your teenage daughter to be frightening?"

Walter's shoulders shook with laughter, along with Brody. "He has to piss like a sprinkler for the rest of his life, poor bastard, but that was some impressive surgery, Walt." It was hard for Brody to speak between the laughter. He dabbed at the tears that formed in the corner of his eyes. Even then, it was the least bizarre surgery either of them had to perform. Surgery came more easily to Walter than raising a teenage girl.

"Wait how are we both here? Who's holding the hospital down?" Walter wondered out loud.

Brody gently elbowed Walter. " It's probably up in flames right now." Once again the two of them burst into laughter.

Yet it came to a halt when the classroom door opened, out stepped the most serious looking man either of them had come across.

"Oh my god it's the white anti-christ." Brody whispered amongst themselves at the sight of him. The teacher hadn't heard at all, busy ushering a parent out the door. Both Walter and Brody sat there snickering like two teenagers waiting in detention. The teacher, Mr. Harris, already looked like he was in the midst of passing a kidney stone.

"Jones." The man called out, to which Brody stood up and walked towards the classroom.

" You don't look like a Jones." Mr. Harris remarked at the sight of Brody. Meaning he didn't expect a man of darker skin, a man of different ethnicity, a man with two caucasian sons. Walter wondered how often Brody had to hear such ignorance. Amazed at how Brody kept his composure with his warm smile.

" You don't look like the students take you very seriously." Brody's words rolled smoothly and sweetly like honey, coming through his smiling lips; there was nothing Mr. Harris could say, he could only lick his wounds.

The teacher held the door open for Brody, allowing him inside, but not without a scathing glare. His friend looked over his shoulder, brows crocked up, letting Walter know that he would be fine.

Walter waited alone, tapping the toe of his boots rhythmically on the floor, watching as parents passed by. A number of them looking pleased, a good amount of them with their partner. Walter wanted to sulk and complain about being a single parent, but had had no right to do so. It was Sarah who raised Nikita for a majority of her life, she really did an excellent job, more than Walter could ever do. And he remembered Melissa, who had raised Scott on her own as well, and managed the difficult task of being a nurse and a mother. The two ladies that were and had been in his life were surely inspirational, exceptional examples of what Walter should be; could be.

His head rolled back the slightest, a tensioned ache starting at his temples. It was a tough call, but Walter believed by keeping Nikita blind from the supernatural he was doing the right thing. It was what Sarah always had wanted, it was a large part of the reason why she left Beacon Hills with their daughter. Things were starting to get tricky now, with the unknown Alpha, Scott McCall -his girlfriend's son- being bitten and turned. Either way he would shelter his daughter, protect his daughter, love his daughter with all his heart.

Walter was growing restless, five minutes had gone by much too slow. He got up to press his ear against the door, listening in on Mr. Harris and Brody.

"Your son isn't very motivated." He heard Mr. Harris say. " He's average in class, he can do more. He's much too distracted with things like poetry and music, even during my class."

" I think you're trying to compare Jonesy with his brother." Brody's voice already agitated.

" If you don't mind me speaking, Alex _was_ a genius pupil who wasted his potential. Jonesy may not be close to his genius, but he's still a smart boy. Do you really want him to throw his life out like Al-"

"-I do mind you speaking. This meeting is about Jonesy. I see you called me here to lecture me on molding my youngest into Alex. Understand that they are two different people. Jonesy's intelligence lies in the arts and creativity, he speaks two languages, mastered three instruments, is the captain of the wrestling team, and the editor of the yearbook club, and finds time to practice with his band and put on concerts. I'm sorry if his grades don't seem to impress you. Alex's intelligence lies upon science and reason. The two of them are gifted in their own ways, and I'm not going to have some -lets make a paper mache volcano - science teacher tell me otherwise."

" With all due respect, Dr. _Jones_." Mr. Harris' voice growing harsher by the minute. " Alex could have been the youngest Aerospace Engineer to work for this country. Who's fault is that? Take action now."

Brody went silent for a moment, and Walter could imagine the inner turmoil his friend was going through. His heart sank for Brody, he always had to climb a hurdle of obstacles to prove himself a good father, a good husband, a good doctor; when all Brody did was his damn best and excel. Walter felt himself growing angry for Brody.

"The fault lies within the teacher that failed to motivate him." Brody fired back, and Walter let out a silent cheer.

He straightened upon hearing the sound of a chair scraping against the linoleum, Brody must have gotten up. "I'm done here. And you're done speaking to either of my sons, unless it has something to do with relevance. And you think Alex is a failure? Just you wait!"

Brody swung the door open, greeted by Walter's worried face. He had never seen his friend so angry. Brody had to deal with constant stress at work, constantly being called upon at ungodly hours, constantly having to deal with pressure inducing life or death surgeries. Never had Walter seen Brody so worked up.

His friend let out a puff of air, looking more tired than usual. Brody's fingers went to loosen Walter's tie even more, his silent way of saying 'it's going to be a tough one.'

"He wants to be a pediatrician." Brody's smile looking more defeated than anything.

Walter placed a hand on the Doctor's shoulder, lending him a reassuring smile. "Jonesy is going to make the best damn pediatrician Beacon Hills has yet to see."

Brody's pager went off, signalling him to return to work. "Alright, try not to cry in there." He warned with his smug smile. "Hold your ground, and if all else fails keep agreeing with him until he shuts up."

" Just what I wanted to hear." Walter japed back, yet it was hard to control the knot tightening in his stomach. He took one last glance at Brody, gathering all his confidence into one place, and made his way into the classroom.

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

If it was possible to fall in love with one's bed, consider Nikita a goner. She had been enveloped in her white fat fluffy comforter with no intentions of ever leaving. Only the top of her head could be seen as she swam in the warmth of her bed. Fingers of daylight seeping through her blinds stretched across her bed. Morning had broken, and any moment now her school alarm would go off. Nikita cringed at the idea of going to school, feeling the tightness in her face from the small scabs that decorated the tops of her cheeks.

The freak mountain lion attack had occurred Friday night, and here she was on a Tuesday morning not wanting to leave her bed. Her head rolled to the side to see her desk cluttered with flowers and get well soon cards. She had been in and out of sleep since the attack, Walter must have brought them in.

Nikita was impressed and proud of the amount of friends she had made in such a short amount of time, safe to say she was well liked. Once again the scabs pulled at the delicate skin of her cheeks, she couldn't help but to smile this time. Beside her desk was a rather enormous teddy bear, it must have been at least five feet tall. She knew at first glance the teddy bear was from Stiles. The bear just like him, obnoxiously cute.

With all the effort a lazy teenager could muster, she got out of bed. Her bare feet padded across the cool wooden floor, towards her desk. The crisp morning air sending goosebumps to the surface of her fair skin, her Los Angeles tan starting to fade. Sleepily she pulled the hem of her black Tame Impala shirt down, as though covering her bare thighs could possibly keep her warm. A dull pang of pain radiated through her right hand, the same hand she used to sock Jackson in the face with. Now she was subjected to wear a splint for a week.

On her desk sat a vase of bright and happy sunflowers, the note attached belonging to Allison. Next to that was a stack of records, at once she knew they must have been from Jonesy. The sleeves were worn, old records, they must have been his most treasured records by the looks of it; hand selected for her. The gift so personal, he already knew her so well. She would have to call Jonesy over at some point to come hang out with her and listen to his records together. The two of them had yet to talk since the last time she saw him, things didn't end so well then. Nikita would have to apologize later today at school, he had been right...about everything.

Next was the oversized teddy bear, a white envelope sat at its feet. Nikita opened the envelope to read a plain white note card which read "sorry, I couldn't find a stuffed mountain lion. Hope you feel well - Stiles."

She let out a snort of laughter, fighting the urge to roll her eyes, or possibly light the note on fire. Stiles' smart ass ways hard to swallow and hard to kill. At least it got a smile on her face.

Her door nearly busted open, Walter walking in with a breakfast tray and a large grin on his face. "I made french toa-"

"-Dad!" Nikita screamed, rather annoyed he didn't bother to knock. "I don't have pants on!"

" Oh my god." Walter muttered to himself shakily, quickly turning on his heels, orange juice splashing out of the cup and onto the tray. He immediately left the room, closing the door behind him.

" I don't want to go to school." Nikita simply protested, going through her drawers looking for an outfit. Her outfit had to be a stunner, so people could see she looked better than ever without Jackson. She knew people were already talking of her. Surely the whole school must have known of her humiliating breakup by now.

"If I could, I would lock you in this house." Walter's voice muffled behind the door. "And never allow you to go outside. But I believe negligence like that would concern the neighbors, the school, and the CPS...So...You need to go to school."

"We wouldn't want to ruin your image, would we?"

He didn't hear her, Nikita's voice purposely low.

"Anyways I need you to leave, I'm having a lunch date over." Walter added.

Her thick brows furrowed together, Nikita's -rather small- hands rolling on a pair of black knee socks. "Lunch date? Like with a woman?"

"No, with the Sheriff's son…"

Nikita rolled her eyes at his dad-like sarcasm. She could hear Walter chuckling to himself, proud of his snarky delivery **. "** Yeah well, I think he may be a little too young for you."

"...She's actually my girlfriend." Walter's voice uncertain and hesitant, like one about to plunge into deep waters. " My girlfriend of three years. We're actually pretty serious."

Nikita mouthed the words "wow" as she slipped on her dress. Three years and she was just hearing about this now. The idea of Walter dating around didn't' come as a surprise to Nikita, her parents had been divorced for nearly six years. And if she was being frank, her father was handsome for his age. Yet this angered Nikita, her mother had recently passed, she didn't want to hear of this other woman at the moment.

"Actually her son her son goes to your school, you may know Sc-"

"That's nice." Nikita interrupted. "Can we talk about this later? I don't feel like discussing this right now."

She could hear him sigh on the other side of the door. "Alright, go to school." Walter using his stern dad voice, as though it could control anything Nikita sought to do. "And if that Jackson kid gives you any trouble."

"Punch him in the nuts and run." Nikita said in all seriousness, closing and opening her right hand, exercising the muscles there.

Walter let out another light chuckle "That's my girl!"

* * *

 **-Stiles' POV-**

His eyes burned from lack of sleep. Stiles leaned his head against the locker next to Scott's, who was busy putting books away. Neither of them were able to sleep. It was only seven hours ago the two of them were locked in the school along with Allison, Lydia, and Jackson - who was still sporting his orange sized bruise like a real champ- along with the blood thirsty Alpha. Scott was now a single man, moping in heartbreak. Stiles felt for his best friend, life had been unfair to Scott lately, who had been hurled into a world he couldn't understand. He knew Scott felt alone in this, but Stiles would never leave his best friend, he would stand beside him; no matter how scary things seemed to get.

Both boys looked at the end of the hall where Jonesy was chatting up with Allison, her infectious smile wide as she ran her fingers through her dark wavy hair.

Stiles' eyes narrowed on the popular teen opposite of Allison. "I hate him, I hate Jonesy."

Scott shrugged, eyes still glued onto Allison. "I don't know, I think he's cool."

He always disliked Scott's fondness for Jonesy. People didn't seem to understand, Jonesy wasn't as great as he presented himself. They seemed to look past his flaws or the fact the kid had never heard of a hair brush or pants without tears in them.

"Plus, he's not a threat to me. He's a friend." Scott finished.

The muscles in Stiles' face pulled tight in the utmost disgust. "Friend? He's probably trying to sweep Allison off her feet right now."

Scott shut his locker, impatience seeping through the cracks of his calm. The Beta shot Stiles a glare before turning his attention to the pair, listening in on their conversation. "Nah, they're just talking about Geometry."

"He's probably talking about how he's going to bisect her angle." Stiles piped in, proud of his math pun; Scott on the other hand was far from amused, crossing his arms.

His best friend turned to gently tap his forehead against the locker a few times, Scott was agitated and worried. "Everything sucks Stiles. Allison hates me. The Alpha wanted me to kill everyone, it nearly killed Jackson, Nikita, and Lydia. We have no clue who the Alpha is, and Derek might be dead."

"We'll figure it out. We're getting closer and closer to getting an answer. And don't worry about Jackson, Lydia, and Nikita, they would have been dead already if the Alpha wanted them." Stiles cringed knowing his words were far from reassuring, he was off his game today; damn Jonesy.

Just then Nikita appeared, coming out of the girls bathroom, walking towards the two of them. Stiles instantly lit up, happy to see her as per usual. She looked radiant in her grey dress and black knee high socks, only Nikita could make something so simple look extraordinary. Empathetic eyes had followed her every stride. Word spread quickly of the animal attack, and people eventually found out of Nikita's heroism. More like Stiles made sure everyone know what a bad ass Nikita they had yet to know was the brutality in which Jackson broke up with her, or the fact that he was now linked to Lydia.

She walked past the two of them unknowingly, eyes scanning the crowd, most likely keeping a lookout for Jackson. Scott nodded his head towards her, giving Stiles an all knowing stare. "Go." He said, dismissing Stiles.

Stiles ran up to Nikita, nearly startling her. "Hey!" His voice loud enough to cause a few students to stop and stare. "I'm glad to see you up and running."

Nikita brushed a strand of wavy chestnut hair behind her ear. "Yeah, running is sort of what I do."

He had always been cursed with the gift of bad timing, or perhaps it was a natural talent. Stiles thought asking Nikita out for a coffee was a good idea. Yes, he understood that she had just been dumped only a few days ago. But he saw no harm in grabbing coffee with a friend, and perhaps she needed someone to talk to. Stiles scratched the back of his neck, his heart was beating against his chest; he was about to take a plunge, the plunge.

"Listen, I know this may be too soon but-"

She wasn't paying attention, her head elsewhere. Nikita was on the tips of her toes, peering around Stiles; most likely looking for Jackson and Lydia. Her attention returned back to Stiles

"I'm sorry…what?" her single dimple showing, making him weak at the knees.

The heat of humiliation crawled down his back, and he instantly regretted his momentary lapse in judgement; asking Nikita out so soon. She was too high up on the social pyramid for the likes of him anyways. That kind of thinking usually forced Stiles into a corner of self doubt.

"Sorry I didn't stay through the night, on Friday."

" Are you kidding? You're so sweet." Instantly Stiles could feel his heart flutter. "No one would have done that for me, I'm kind of a wimp, so it made me feel better knowing you were there." Nikita admitted.

"Of course, I'm there for you whenever you need me." And he meant it.

"And thanks for the teddy bear. I honestly prefer it over a mountain lion" Her fingers wrapping around her bag strap. "Teddy is cute."

"You named him Teddy?" Stiles reciprocating her warming smile.

Nikita shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sort of a trailblazer when it comes to things like this. I know you can't keep up, but there's no need to be so hard on yourself."

"I'm glad we can agree upon your many mundane talents." Stiles teasing her, loving how her smile grew wider. "Let's just wrap you up and call you gifted."

His hand flew out, making a fist to playfully punch at her shoulder, the sort of way that friends do. Stiles was terrible at many things, especially when it came to hand eye coordination or functioning on a daily basis. His fist, a bit too far to the right, went right for her right tit.

Her mouth dropped open at the punch, befuddled by Stiles' inappropriate action; hand covering the hurt area. Stiles felt a strong urge to light himself on fire, his face beet red. His mouth opened as well, searching for a way to smooth this over; there was no coming back from this sort of humiliation. With no way to reprimand his stupidity, Stiles did the only thing he could think of, run. Stiles left in a half trot, careful this time not to stumble; leaving Nikita even more speechless than before.

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

The day was slowly coming to an end, Nikita sat in her last class, art. She was having a lousy time attempting to draw with her splinted hand. All her lines jagged and much too same shaky image scratched across her sketchpad, red savage eyes; eyes belonging to the mountain lion. It was the only thing she could remember from the animal apart how it smelled of blood.

Allison peered over to her sketch pad, she, herself was working on a rather large canvas.

"How about you draw something...not so scary?" She suggested with a slight nod.

Allison's efforts were much appreciated, the two had seemingly grown much closer with Lydia out of the picture. Allison never asked Nikita what had happened between her and Jackson, or her and Lydia for that matter; and for that she was thankful. It seemed Allison had no clue of what happened, the brutal breakup. Neither did the school, for Nikita had yet to hear the whispers amongst her classmates. She wanted to keep everything secretive for as long as she could, not wanting to deal with the rumor mill. Nikita intended to keep her head low and go on about her had yet to run into Lydia and Jackson, Lydia didn't show up for their English or Chemistry class, she was most likely at home trying to remedy her problems with a fresh bottle of Vicodin.

The bell went off, Nikita mostly packed already. Both her and Allison walked down the hall, Nikita listening to her friend go on about how amazing her aunt is, swiftly avoiding the topic of Scott Mccall. From what Nikita understood, Scott had been telling Allison lies and keeping her at bay.

Nikita held her sketchbook to her chest, watching as Allison spoke with great passion, the two of them maneuvering through the sea of students. Allison's smile dropped at once, confusion working hard at her expressions, her eyes staring past the crowd. Nikita followed Allison's gaze to see it had landed upon Jackson. He was leaning against his locker, smile on his face, in deep conversation. It was when students started clearing from her view she could see him fully now, he was in deep conversation with Lydia, the two of them holding hands.

It felt like she had rammed herself into a brick wall. She knew Jackson and Lydia were an item, but to be showing each other off so soon, and people had no idea of her breakup. They certainly knew now. She was still frozen in place, the world had slowed down before her. Passerbys bumped into her shoulder like she wasn't there, others giving her knowing smirks, enjoying the gossips and the trainwreck that was about to go down. Although she wasn't surprised, she found herself deeply disappointed with how low both Jackson and Lydia could sink.

Nikita practically shoved her sketchbook into Allison's hands, her feet carrying her to the new couple. She seethed upon seeing them holding hands, Jackson's lips pressed against her once friend's ear, whispering words of tenderness to Lydia.

"How could you!?" Nikita's voice growing gradually louder, garnering the attention of those around her, already cellphones were pulled out, ready for a spectacle. "I don't understand what I did to deserve this!"

Jackson dropped Lydia's hand at the sight of Nikita, Lydia, herself, had the grace to almost look ashamed. She could have laughed at the sight of Jackson if she weren't so angry. The right side of his jaw was still swollen, hidden just beneath the thick layer of makeup applied to his face.

" It's highschool, Nikita, people breakup and get together all the time." Lydia started with a confident demeanor that no man could shatter.

Except, Nikita was no man.

Nikita's sharp glare tearing through Lydia Martin, like a boat showing up on a missile radar. "I don't know why I had such high expectations on a friendless stuck up waste of space like you. Anything else you want from me seeing you love taking people's seconds?"

"Hey!" Jackson short on patience, his eyes darting between Nikita and the bystanders whispering amongst each other. Allison stood along the edge of the crowd, uncertain with what to do. "Who do you think you are? Telling people you were the one who saved my life?"

Nikita left stunned for a moment, she hadn't told a single person about the animal attack, or her saving Jackson, it must have been Stiles. Her anger towards Jackson much like an overflowing pot of water that had been left on the stove for far too long. It all had been building...since the day she had left Los Angeles and her perfect life behind.

"Gee, shit for brains, maybe it's because I did!? Meanwhile your pathetic uncoordinated ass was laying face down in a pile of dvd's holding yourself back from pissing all over yourself."

Jackson already looking for a way out, but he was trapped between Nikita's hail of bullet-like words and his locker. Lydia seemed to have put distance between herself and them, frightened wide eyes transfixed on the cell phones filming her humiliation.

"Did you tell them about the part where you tried to outrun me and failed?" A cocky smile -one hardly ever seen on Nikita- spread across her blush colored lips.

"Shut up." Was all Jackson managed to choke out. His ego tarnished badly.

"The problem with you, Jackson Whittemore, is that you had a silver spoon shoved so deep in your ass since the day you were born that no one has ever stood up to you. I'm glad to be the first…. Pull out that silver spoon and use said spoon to eat shit, you egotistical asshat."

The semi circle of students erupted into a cacophony of jeers and collective gasps. It seemed for the most part the masses loved relishing in Jackson's humiliation. Nikita herself should have felt humilation as well, for losing her cool in front of so many people. Seeing red held her back from seeing those around her, or paying attention to appearances; hers especially.

Jackson, fully defeated and torn apart by half the student body finally said "are you done?"

Nikita licked the pad of her thumb, running it across Jackson's swollen jaw and wiping the makeup there; revealing the bruise she had given him.

"I am now."

The crowd went wild, some attempting to cover their wide open mouths. With that, Nikita turned on her heels, her long chestnut waves smacking Jackson in the face for added insult.

Adrenaline swam freely through her veins, she was on a new high, one she had never felt. Nikita never knew she had it in her. The girl back there, the one that stood up to Jackson was made of things far braver than Nikita. Her hands shook, but she dared not show it. A smile pulled at her lips, pride blossomed within her. Nikita hurriedly made her way down the hall and pushed open the door to where the Yearbook Club met. She was a girl on a mission, refusing to lay down and cry no matter how much her heart wanted to.

Jonesy turned around, seated in a computer chair, a student she had never met before right next to him. He could sense the urgency rising off of her, she must have looked so flustered because he got up to his feet at once.

He turned to his friend, who was still seated and rather confused. "Great photos Matt, I'll select the ones I like tonight."

His friend nodded, understanding he was to leave, and grabbed his camera before heading out.

Jonesy cleared his throat, almost looking nervous "If this is about the argument we had I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt your feelings, and I went about it all wrong."

"It's not." She said, taking a step closer to him. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, wanting to calm herself, but she was so full of confidence at the moment.

"You're taking me to Winter Formal." Nikita blunt and straight to the point.

His eyes widened, mouth left hung open for a moment, completely caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

Nikita took another step, expecting Jonesy to take a step back; but he stood firmly in place. The space between them seemed so minimal, his tall frame forcing her to look up into those soft baby blues. She couldn't help but to smile at how ridiculous all of it was, and he returned it.

"You're taking me to Winter Formal. Think of it as a friend taking another friend to a friendly dance." Nikita making sure he understood there were no strings attached in this.

Jonesy went silent, his thick brows meeting together. He studied her for a moment with narrowed eyes. She desperately wanted to know what was going through her friend's mind, if he thought she was insane.

"Fine." He finally said.

Jonesy let out a sigh, he thought he knew what stubborn was…Until he met Nikita. "Do I have to wear matching colors with you?"

"Nope."

Jonesy stuffed his hands in his pockets "Do I have to dance?"

"Yep." Niki popped the P.

Jonesy let out a sigh "Can I do the robot?"

"I prefer if you didn't."

"Good, I don't know how, anyways." Jonesy admitted.

A devious smirk formed on his face and for a moment it felt like he was reading her like an open book on how to be petty. "Is this to get back at Jackson?"

Nikita went silent, feeling guilt rushing in. Her head dropped low. She was essentially using her friend to make Jackson jealous, and to save face by not showing up alone at the dance. She knew how threatened Jonesy made Jackson feel, showing up with Jonesy to the dance would grate his gears. One last epic 'Fuck You' to her ex boyfriend. It was unfair of her to put Jonesy in such a position without his knowing.

Jonesy's finger slid under her chin and lifted her head so they locked eyes "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I'll pick you up at eight."

* * *

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I know the timeline is a bit wonky, but hey, let's just call this an au!

Please let me know what you guys think, reviews are much appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9

**YOU GUYS ARE SO AMAZING!**

 **Thank you to the few of you who left me love last chapter, I appreciate it so much you have no idea! Re-writing a story is absolutely terrifying, you guys are the ones who let me know I should keep on going. THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANK YOU.**

 **Thank you Immy for putting fire under my ass to write this chapter :]**

* * *

"Oh my god. Does she know how adorable she looks when she crinkles her nose like that? And then her dimple appears every time she laughs?" Jonesy thought to himself, watching Nikita giggle over a joke Stiles had just told her. She must have known the effect her smile had on people, how it created an unexplainable blossom of happiness in his chest.

If Jonesy was being honest, Stiles' joke wasn't all that funny, but it got her to smile, and that's all that really mattered. It was nice seeing Nikita in higher spirits just days after her brutal showdown with Jackson. Granted, she was still hurting, but she was really trying her best. It must have been a difficult task with Lydia Martin sitting at the front of the classroom, the two of them refusing to even make eye contact.

He had watched since Nikita's arrival how Stiles had grown bolder and bolder. Stiles' attraction for Nikita had become obvious, everyone could tell, apart from Nikita of course. And with his keen observational skills, Jonesy could tell Nikita was enjoying it, and even starting to reciprocate it. The window of opportunity was wide open. Jonesy was practically staring at it. Yet it didn't seem right, taking advantage of someone who had their heart stepped all over wasn't the way Jonesy did things.

Anyways, he promised himself he would stop messing around after he gave Jackson the boot. It was time for Jonesy to concentrate on his academics if he wanted to take pediatrics seriously, and spend more time with his band, Lugosi.

The wooden pencil twirled between his fingers effortlessly, like a drum stick, and Jonesy leaned back into his seat. Her attention was on his pencil, with a raised brow she watched how it smoothly rotated between his fingers. Jonesy smiled at her keen interest with his little party trick, twirling it faster. He had always been a bit of a show off, but he couldn't help was a curious thing, it showed in the analytical manner in which she held her stare. Large hazel eyes peered over him with question over such a small thing, how was he doing that? Jonesy wondered what she did with the answers she collected, store it in a mental filing cabinet to bring out later? Learn the art and perform it herself?

"Show off." She muttered under her breath.

"You'll figure out how to do it yourself, eventually." Jonesy flashing her a kind smile.

* * *

Stiles' POV

"T-there are like...PLENTY of girls in the sea." Stiles stumbling over every vowel in that sentence. His tongue feel rather weighty, each word heavy much like his eyelids. A warmth blossomed in the pit of his stomach; that was the whisky doing its job.

He found himself at the edge of the woods with Scott, the two of them taking a break from the world's hecticness. A bottle shared between them would allow Stiles to loosen up and possibly dull his always-on senses for a few minutes, a bottle shared between them would hopefully help Scott forget about Allison. Stiles was completely liquored up, Scott on the other hand remained sober as a judge.

"I think you mean fish." Scott, corrected, already growing irritated.

His best friend sat brooding on a rock, while Stiles admired the moon and all its luminous glory. It was a peculiar thing, the moon. It was only a rock, far off floating in space. That rock held so much power though, over the tides, over his best friend. It could cause so much destruction..it made no sense...but wow was it pretty to look at.

"Wow, she's beautiful." Stiles spoke longingly, a sloppy wistful smile forming on his face.

"The moon?" Scott's attention was transfixed to the ground, where he drew into the dirt with a stick, trying his best to drown in denial rather than alcohol. Allison had dumped him, and the full moon was tomorrow night. He could feel the power shifting beneath his skin, a bud of anger threatening to blossom when he woke in the morning. Scott was absolutely terrified for what would come tomorrow, would he hurt his friends? Would he hurt his mother? A beast lived within him, and no matter how hard he tried to calm the beast, it would eventually claw its way out of him.

"That one dimple of hers drives me so wild. Do you think she knows that? And that's why she smiles at me? Do you think she knows how much power she holds with just that smile?" Stiles himself couldn't help but to smile, closing his eyes to imagine Nikita's face.

"You're definitely not talking about the moon, are you?" Scott letting out a wistful sigh. "Allison has dimples, one on each cheek."

Stiles slapped his forehead with his hand. "We're not talking about Allison, man. C'mon you need to move past her. Scott ignored his best friend, pulling out his phone and going directly to Allison's name in his contacts. His finger hovered above the green phone symbol, wanting nothing more in the world to call her.

As if his Scott-being-stupid-radar went off, Stiles jumped to his feet. "Hey man, don't do that." Stiles warned, snatching Scott's phone out of his hand. "She asked for space, remember?"

Scott let out a groan, hiding his face in his hands, shielding himself from his miserable and hectic life. Everything was going belly up, Allison didn't want to see him, and they still had no lead on who the Alpha was; how he feared the full moon tomorrow night.

"I'm going to go take a piss." Stiles slurred, gazing down on his friend between half closed lids. "You stay here."

* * *

Nikita's POV

Nikita lay sprawled on Allison's bed, aimlessly flicking through a Cosmopolitan magazine. Her silky dark chestnut hair fanned beneath her. Allison sat at her desk, painting her nails carefully. It was quiet without Lydia, even with the songs of the radio carrying through the airwaves, however the two of them found it to be relaxing.

That tranquil silence disturbed by Allison's phone going off. The doe eyed brunette looked to Nikita with a tired expression. "It's Scott." The exhaustion of heartbreak clear in her voice.

Nikita sat up, the magazine falling into her lap. "You still care about him, don't you." Nikita didn't even need to ask Allison, it was written all over her face. The past few days Allison had been in a slump, her usual sunny disposition turned gloomy. It killed her seeing her friend like this, she wanted happy chipper Allison back.

"He's been keeping secrets from me." Allison began, tapping her freshly painted nails on the desk surface with impatience. "I can't be in a relationship like that."

She hardly knew a thing about Scott, other than Jackson wasn't very fond of him, he was on the shy side compared to Stiles, and he made an impressive turnaround in lacrosse. Nikita thought he seemed like a genuinely nice guy, more importantly he made Allison happy, for the most part. "Is there any way you can give him another chance? Maybe there's a lot going on in his life right now. Do you think you guys could at least talk about it?"

A warm smile took place of Allison's pout, her dimples appearing. "I understand you wanting to defend him, seeing how you two are probably future stepsiblings and all, but-"

Nikita blinked hard, Allison's words almost going over her head. She must have heard incorrectly. "W-What? Future what? I'm an only child?"

Allison buried her head in her hands at the sight of Nikita's confusion, her phone still going off in the background. "I'm so sorry. I thought you knew? I thought Scott would have told you by now, or anyone for that matter. Your father is in a pretty serious relationship with Scott's mother."

With lack of caring, or possibly overwhelmed with the new information, Nikita fell back onto the bed. She remembered Walter attempting to discuss the serious relationship Allison was speaking of. Nikita was never in the mood to listen to her father prattle on about his love life, no matter how serious it had become. Her mother's death was still too fresh for her, and she didn't want to think of another woman stepping into a motherly role in her life. Maybe Nikita should have paid attention when Walter actually spoke.

"Niki?"

Nikita was caught in the haze of confusion, so deep she didn't even hear Allison trying to get her phone went off again, the cheery poppy ringtone starting to grate at Nikita's nerves. She decided that she needed to hear from Scott, drill him with a handful of questions.

"You need to answer that." Nikita blankly staring at the royal crown moulding on Allison's ceiling.

Allison let out a sigh before answering the phone, putting the call on speakerphone.

"Allison, AL-LI-SONNN!"

Nikita's head rolled over to look at her friend, the two girls exchanging puzzled glances. Stiles' unmistakable voice booming sloppily over the speakerphone. The two of them weren't expecting to hear Stiles on the other end, more importantly they weren't expecting a drunk Stiles. The night was already turning out to be more interesting than Nikita had intended.

"How can I help you, Stiles?" Allison trying to hide the agitation in her voice, clearly hoping to hear from Scott instead.

"Okay, WOAH, rude. Such sassss." Stiles' words slurring. Nikita let out a laugh at the sound of him, Allison's finger going to her lip, hushing Nikita so they could listen in on the mess.

"You're a girl...right?" Stiles asked between a fit of hiccups, cursing at each one, blissfully unaware of Nikita being in the room with Allison.

Allison let out another exasperated sigh, her perfectly groomed brows coming together with frustration. "Yes, Stiles. The last time I checked, I can confirm I am indeed a girl...Where's Scott?"

Stiles ignored her question, pressing on with his own. "I have this p-problem that needs to be uh, sorted." He went silent for a moment before blurting out. " And uhmm, I really like this girl."

Allison looked to Nikita with question mouthing the word 'who?' Nikita could only shrug her shoulders, her guess was Lydia Martin. Although the entire school already knew that.

"A girl." Stiles added. "A realllllllyyyy pretty girl, that you're friends with."

Yep. He must have been on about Lydia. Nikita let out a puff of air, blowing a strand of her hair out of her face. Her mind went silent for a moment and she found herself slipping into a solemn state. She twirled her glossy strand around her finger, thinking of how she enjoyed being in Stiles' company, and she wouldn't mind sharing his company right now.

"I know Stiles." Allison playing along. "You're into Lydia, the whole school knows."

"NO. Not Lydia, the other one. The one who actually knows that I exist." Stiles' clumsy tongue having trouble spitting out the sentence. "The one with that cute dimple, you know who i'm talking about."

At once Allison turned to look at Nikita with the largest smile on her face. Nikita couldn't seem to pick up her jaw. Allison threw her hands in the air, fanning them like a teenage girl at a pop concert, she was far too excited by the night's plot twist. Nikita could feel the blood rushing beneath the surface of her cheeks, a rosy blush spreading across her delicate features. So she brought a pillow down on her face, not sure if she was trying to suffocate herself or attempting to hide her giddish smile.

"I think I know who you're talking about." Allison purposely teasing Stiles, holding the phone with one hand, trying to -with no luck- tear the pillow off of Nikita's face with the other.

"I'M TALKING ABOUT NIKITA GRACE! ALLISON!" Stiles shouted, his voice so loud Allison had to step away from the phone.

Nikita suppress her giggles, disallowing herself from enjoying any of it. She had just been brutally dumped by Jackson, now was not the time to be thinking of boys or any sort of romance.

"She's just so pretty, she can be a smartass sometimes, but she's really nice when you get to know her-" Stiles gushed in a dreamy voice. "And I think she's misunderstood, and-"

"Stiles!? What the hell!" Scott's irritated voice finally coming through the speakers. "Are you drunk dialing, with MY phone!?"

"Dude, go away Scott! I could have been peeing right now, and you would have seen my little Stiles, that's against every law of bro code." Stiles shouting back at his friend.

"Stiles give me the phone, now!" Both girls listened to what sounded like the two boys scuffling on the floor, wrestling for the phone. Allison hung up, having heard enough of them, and not wanting to talk to Scott.

Nikita finally removed the pillow, taking in her bottom lip to give Allison the most innocent look. "I have no comment. I think the best course of action is to move on and never bring this up ag-"

"OH MY GOD!" Allison squealed with excitement, jumping onto the bed to join Nikita. "He likes you! He's so in love with you!"

"Let's not use scary words such as love, Allison." Nikita brought her knees to her chest to hide her smile. Nikita wanted a change of topic, anything to pull her out of the embarrassment.

Just then Allison's door opened, in stepped a woman Nikita had never seen before. She wore a plastic smile, and loose wavy blonde hair. In her hand was a rather large white box, wrapped with a seafoam green ribbon. It must have been Kate, Allison's aunt she had been gushing over so much since her arrival in Beacon Hills. Her green eyes washed over Nikita with a calculating gaze, Nikita already feeling small in her presence.

"You must be Nikita!" Kate speaking in an overly sugary voice, like she had practiced in a mirror. "I know so much about you!"

Nikita's brows met together and already she was feeling flustered and uncomfortable. She found it often that people knew more about her than she knew about them. Allison shyly tucked her hair behind her ear. "Sorry, it's just, you're practically my only friend."

She sounded so heartfelt, Nikita couldn't help but to smile. "And you're Kate, the cool aunt."

Kate let out a chuckle, her voice huskier than Nikita had imagined. "That's right, the cool aunt. Would you like some alcohol?"

"That sounds like a trick question so I'm going to go with no on that one."

"Clever. Good answer. You should keep this one around, Allison." Kate giving her niece a warm smile.

"What's that you got there?" Allison nodding towards the white box in her hands, brows wiggling with curiosity.

Kate sat on the end of the bed, putting the box between them. Her fingers worked at taking off the light green ribbon. "There's this bakery I always stop by when i'm in town. They're known for their puff pastries, but I am such a glutton for their amazing cupcakes."

Nikita's eyes followed the loops and curls of the gold foiled lettering that spelled out Le Choux Bakery. She had heard of the bakery before, Jonesy had mentioned it belonging to his mother. He would be delighted to know she was going to give Le Choux Bakery a try.

The lid to the box opened and both girls marvelled at the goods inside. Rows and rows of beautifully decorated scrumptious cupcakes before them. Allison's hands rubbed together with an eagerness as she contemplated which flavor to try first.

"You have to try the red-velvet. It's to die for." Kate suggesting with a curt nod of her head.

Nikita leaned forward to grab a cupcake when she felt a slight yank around her neck. Knowing the irritating feeling all too well, she looked up to meet Kate's green eyes. Kate had wrapped her finger around the chain of Nikita's necklace, her eyes now downcast to study the silver heart in her grasp. Anger blossomed in Nikita's chest, the audacity of this woman, putting her fingers on something Nikita held so sacred and close.

"Cute necklace." Kate observed. "What do the initials stand for?"

It was bad enough Kate Argent was invading Nikita's personal space, how she was trying to worm her way into her personal life. Nikita's grabbed at her chain, pulling it back and tucking her necklace into her shirt. "It's uhm, my initials combined with my friend's."

"These are delicious!" Allison purposely interjecting herself into the conversation

Kate, laying on her side, picked up a cupcake. Her finger ran over the top, scooping up the buttercream frosting, before putting it into her mouth. She let herself savor the taste before looking up at the girls. "These are so sinful, I should feel guilty. But there's nothing in this world that can make me feel guilty." A small laugh escaping her lips, Allison laughing along. Nikita felt out of place, forcing herself to chuckle, already running lists of exit plans in her head.

* * *

"So I was thinking, I'll match my tie to your dress. Actually I'm sort of leaning towards a bow." Jonesy enthusiastically sharing his ideas for the dance with Nikita as she sorted her books into the locker.

She leaned back to get a good glance at Jonesy. He was resting against the locker next to her, one leg hitched up, fingers running through his messy dark hair. Jonesy was donning a faded shirt of Bill Nye the Science Guy holding up a globe, the words 'Science Rules!' in red lettering right below the image. His shirt a tad short and a bit snug on his long lean figure, Nikita wondering who he got it from. Jonesy looked like the poster child of every hipster's wet dream, yet he made everything look so effortless. He had caught her staring, a playful smirk pulling at his full lips.

"Like what you see?"

Nikita nodded. "I see a boy who's really excited to go to a school dance, but won't admit it because it might ruin his public image."

"Fuck my public image. I wasn't even aware I had one." Jonesy turned fully to face Nikita. " Of course I'm excited. Get to shit on Jackson's night while going to the dance with you. Now what color is your dress again?"

Her smile widened, Jonesy's excitement for the dance was starting to rub off on her. She had never been to a dance before, and she most certainly never had a date for a dance before. "I haven't picked a dress yet. How about you pick a bow and I'll pick a dress based off that color?"

Jonesy shook his head, his hand going to rub the back of his neck. "No way. This night is about you. Whenever you figure out the color of your dress let me know. I want to make sure you have a good time, you know? You lead, and I'll follow."

Nikita let out a sigh, not out of frustration, but out of admiration. "I get it now."

Jonesy's thick eyebrows coming together. "Get what?"

"I get why everyone likes you so much."

His eyes fell to his sneakers, suddenly too bashful to look at Nikita, and he wore the widest smile. Jonesy's pale blue eyes landed back on Nikita. "Thanks, but i'm not sure about everyone."

Just then Stiles made his way down the hall, arms hanging lamely at his side. He was terribly hung over, and even though he was a wreck, he managed to greet Nikita with a smile. Jonesy excused himself at the sight of Stiles, deciding to head over to the Yearbook Club. It was just her and Stiles now.

"Hey, you look like death." Nikita greeted him in the kindest way she could. It was hard for her not to be a smartass around Stiles, he just always amplified that side of her.

" Ha. Ha." Stiles shooting her a deadpan glare.

Nikita dug into her bag to pull out a water bottle, and a packet of Alka-Seltzer. "Hold this." Nikita shoving her purse into Stiles' chest, he nearly doubled over, not expecting it.

She carefully snapped the seltzer tablet in half, dropping it into the bottle of water and giving it a shake. 'For you." Nikita holding the bottle out for Stiles.

His eyes landed on the bottle, then back at Nikita. "What's this?" Unusually skeptical of the concoction in her hand.

"You took care of me the last time I was hungover, now let me take care of you." Her dimpled smile instantly disarming him.

"Trust me, my dad's a doctor." Nikita added with a playful wiggle of her brows.

Stiles looked astonished for a moment, not expecting to be received with such kindness, even though she had shown it time and time again. "Thanks."

The two of them hung out in the hallway, class wasn't for another fifteen minutes. Nikita didn't dare mention his phone call to Allison last night, not wanting to humiliate him. He had seen her when she was beyond inebriated, and not once did he make her feel ashamed. Stiles took a swig of the fizzy seltzer water, already starting to feel replenished.

"So uh, I made first string today!" He brought up with a sudden burst of excitement.

"No way!" She playfully slapped his arm. "That's awesome."

Stiles rocked back and forth on his feet for a moment, before biting the bullet and taking the plunge. "Do you think- would you like to come to the game tonight?"

Nikita went silent for a moment, contemplating his invitation. Jackson would be there, and that meant Lydia would be there as well. She had been doing so well avoiding those two, like they were the plague; even with the few classes she shared with Lydia. Yet, Stiles was before her looking like he was on top of the world. Nikita didn't want to be the one to take his smile away. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

Stiles' brows shot up. "Wait really?"

"Yeah, should be fun!" Nikita holding her books to her chest.

Stiles let out a fist pump in the air. "Ok great! I uh need to cram some studies before class, so I'll see you soon!"

Nikita looked past Stiles' shoulder to see Scott pacing off in the opposite direction, looking extremely agitated. She found herself starting back into Stiles' honey whisky eyes again."Of course, I'll be there soon."

As soon as Stiles wandered off Nikita went for Scott. She was on his tail, ready to bombard him with questions. She didn't know what to ask him, or where to begin. Scott was cutting through the sea of students effortlessly, Nikita following his angry strut. She had caught up to his long strides, already feeling out of breath. He didn't bother to look at her, fingers curled to form hard fists. Scott looked like he was ready to start a fight.

"Are you okay?"

" Are you still following me?" Scott making no effort to hide the annoyance in his voice.

She was taken aback by his brazen attitude. Nikita may not have known Scott all too well, but this was far from his usual demeanor. Scott was kind, gentle, and outgoing. Nikita wondered if his testy mood was because of Allison. He had lead the two of them into Coach Finnstock's empty room, allowing them to talk in private.

"What do you want?" Scott's impatience seeping through gritted teeth.

"Wow, okay a hello would work just fine." Nikita already fed up with his dickish ways.

Scott took a step closer to Nikita, a step much too close for her own comfort. She didn't like the way he was looking at her, as if challenging her with a darkened gaze, to see who would look away first. Nikita felt small in his presence, never had he imposed any sort of threat before.S he just wanted to speak to him about their parents, and more importantly about Allison.

Nikita's eyes were quick in diverting to the ground, finding that holding his gaze was overwhelming. "You're making me really uncomfortable." She hated how weak her voice sounded.

"Am I?" Scott moving in even closer now. She could smell the light lavender of his freshly washed clothes.

A small gasp escaped her as soon as Scott closed the space between them. Nikita, already athletic, was blessed with sharp reflexes. Her book came up to but a wedge between them, Scott's lips coming to press against her text book.

"Did you really just?-" Nikita left stunned.

Scott pulled away, looking like he just took a dive in icy waters. "I'm so sorry!" His personality flipping like a coin.

Nikita slowly lowered the book, feeling absolutely disgusted and humiliated. "I need to-" She couldn't finish her sentence, running out of the room without glancing over her shoulder.

* * *

Walter's POV

"So you're dating Melissa McCall?" Nikita's arms crossed, she was standing beside him in the hospital elevator.

Walter remained calm under the pressure of his daughter's question. Many times he had attempted to tell Nikita, she fell deaf upon his words each time. Walter understood the idea of him dating another woman felt too much for Nikita, especially after her mother's death. Walter and Melissa's relationship started many years ago. The two of them -who were already committed and serious- decided it was best to ease Nikita into this. "I tried telling you, but you were always too... preoccupied."

"Look, Walter. I'm having a shit week, so cut the sass."

He let out a whistle at the sound of her brashness, she got her hard headedness from her late mother. "Must be tough being a teenager."

Nikita finally turned to look at Walter, icing him in his place with the coldest gaze she could muster. " I had the pleasure of meeting Kate Argent, ever hear of her? She used to live here."

Upon hearing her name, Walter's face went pale. He never had the pleasure of meeting Kate Argent, but he knew everything there was to know about her. Like the fact she was the one to decimate his friends, the Hale's. His daughter was reading his troubled expression, Nikita's answer right in front of her. "Wow she must suck."

"Just try to stay away from her." Walter smoothing out any wrinkles on the sleeve of his doctor's coat, trying his best to play it cool. "She's one of those with a bad reputation."

He watched at how curiously Nikita's eyes peered up at the elevator levels, watching as they descended to the lower floors. "I got vibes from her, bad vibes." Nikita admitted. " And i'm not about people grabbing my necklace."

"She touched you!?"

A bolt of unfathomable anger jolted Walter awake from his content boom in his loud voice causing his daughter to jump. He was furious. How dare a hunter touch his daughter, a human. Kate should have known better. She was making implications she knew, flaunting her knowledge of Walter taking care of Peter Hale.

"...You look like you're about to shit a brick." Nikita pointed out. The elevator doors opened, the two on Peter's floor.

"Yeah." Walter started. "I'm just thinking about how I'll inject an air bubble in Kate Argent's IV drip if she ever rolls into my hospital."

Nikita forgot to keep up with her father's long strides, stunned by his sudden aggressive language. Walter's anger starting to subside, not wanting to bring any negativity into Peter's recovery room. He opened the doors to Peter's room, the two of them entering inside. Peter sat before the large window, basking in the warmth of California sunshine. Walter was glad his friend could find and appreciate simple pleasures in life; Peter didn't have much. He had no friends aside from Walter, he had no family left aside from Derek, no home, no belongings.

Walter sat in an armchair, watching his daughter join Peter by the window. His heart sank recalling those many years ago, six to be exact, when Peter Hale was brought to his hospital. It was unclear what had happened at the time, Walter unaware the entire Hale family had been burned alive. Peter came to him screaming in pain and unrecognizable, his flesh barely hanging onto his bones. Walter had spent nine hours in the O.R with Peter, fighting to stabilize him. His nurses left him one by one as the hours ticked by, by the seventh hour it was just him and Peter Hale. He couldn't give up on Peter, he owed it to the Hale family, who to him were like his own family.

Nine grueling hours to perform the impossible.

After stabilizing Peter he couldn't leave his bed side. Afraid Peter would slip into shock, afraid the hunters would come back and try to finish what they started. Walter didn't find the time to mourn, having put his emotions aside in order to perform a clean surgery. Peter may not have recovered fully, but he was here today, living, breathing, and slowly finding a reason to smile again.

Peter's lips had lifted into a subtle smile, his eyes set on Nikita with admiration as she explained how lacrosse works. Her finger hooked around her necklace, pulling the heart side to side on the thin chain, creating a zip sound. "Do you hate Kate Argent as much as Walter does?"

Walter's eyes widened, having yet to break the news to Peter that Kate was back in town. "Nikita!" His voice coming out louder than he meant.

She turned to look at him, confused as to why he was angry. Nikita stilled, letting go of her necklace and waiting for an explanation.

He cleared his throat, once again regaining his calm. "You should go to the cafeteria and grab Peter a pudding cup. I'm sure he's sick of lime jello." Walter fished out a twenty dollar bill out of his back pocket. "And get yourself whateve-"

Nikita snatched the bill out of his hand, this time without bothering to give him one of her annoyed glances. It was just him and Peter now. He could only see the back of Peter's head, for he was seated in his wheelchair, watching the breeze sway the bush of white Peonies before his window.

"Peter." Walter started slowly. "I didn't know how to tell you. Kate is back in town."

A moment of silence settled between the two of them.

"I don't want you to feel any sort of fear or worry, Peter. You're safe here. She can't hurt you here." Walter trying his best to assure his friend.

Walter's fingers raked through his thick dark hair, feeling the frustration of it all. Kate was most likely back in town due to the Alpha, no one could figure out who the Alpha was. All they knew of the Alpha was that it was a ruthless killer, it had turned Scott, and it had spared Nikita, Jackson, and Lydia. They needed to get rid of the Alpha, they needed to get rid of Kate.

He got up and turned around, finding it hard to even face the back of Peter's head. He should have been honest with his friend, he at least deserved to know the truth. "We'll find a way to chase Kate out of town." Walter trying to convince himself.

Peter's blinked slowly, claws extending to sharp points, dragging across the arm of the wheelchair. Eyes burning a savage crimson.

* * *

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you think! If you liked it, hated it, what you want to see more of!


	10. Chapter 10

OMG you guys are so amazing! Thank you for all the wonderful comments and all the support. Your kind words keep me going, and I want to write the shit out of this story to show you what I can do! ^_^ Thank you Immy and Cait for helping me out, I forced you guys to read this chapter so many times, i'm so sorry.

Major thanks to: PrettyPink01, ApolloArgent, Wildrecklessyouthinme, It Belongs In A Museum, Maddie Rose, Friendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff

There will be flashbacks in this chapter, those flashbacks will be italicized. This chapter is pretty short compared to what I usually write, but I hope you guys enjoy it all the same! We're so close to the end of season one!

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Nikita lay on the thick low branch of a tree that nature had intended to grow sideways. Her legs swinging back and forth, arms hanging off the edge. The soft blades of grass grazed against the tips of her toes with the slightest tickle, enough to bring a smile to her lips. The Winter air was frigid and cold, yet the golden light of sunshine spilled over her through the thick green canopy of leaves above, warming every inch of her; skin and bones. It was silent here, away from the roads, away from the everyday pressures of a teenager who didn't belong in the sleepy town of Beacon Hills.

She came here to decompress, let the solitude take a hold of her in order to find peace.

The twisted branch which she laid upon was like something out of a Fairy Tale, the wild wood covered in lush green moss and small red toadstools. The beauty and whimsy of the woods created a safe and nostalgic atmosphere she could never get sick of. Although her heart belonged to the woods, her mind was drifting away to sea.

Nikita's eyes- usually a dark hazel- now looked a warm toffee in the ethereal light of the woods. She closed them, taking in the sounds of the leaves rustling above her. It sounded eerily similar to the ocean. A detailed image painted behind shut eyelids, the black ocean tide crawled forward, pearly seafoam kissing beige sands. She was swept away from Beacon Hills and brought back to Los Angeles.

" _I like to call them Mermaid Tears."_

Her mother's soft voice echoed in her head. Nikita feared she had forgotten her mother's voice, eventually a time would come where she so desperately wished she could remember. She could feel the sting of briny tears.

 _The turquoise sea glass was held between her mother's thumb and index finger, allowing the light of the roaring fire to shine through it with a brilliance. It indeed looked magical, like a jewel of the ocean; when in fact it was merely glass. Nikita marveled at it's beauty, Sarah smiling at her daughter's innocence and wonderment. The translucent glass was indeed tear shaped, an eleven year old Nikita having found it buried in the sand._

 _She sat in her mother's lap, the warmth of the bon fire making her sleepy. Nikita could taste the mixture of salt and sunscreen on her lips, it tasted like summer. Her mother's family sitting around the fire, enjoying a beach day in July._

 _Nikita - often told she had her father's eyes- was a spitting image of her mother. The two of them had the same heart shaped face, the strong brows that set them apart from the rest. Sarah Grace held out her hand, revealing even more sea glass. Nikita's eyes lit up, all the different vibrant colors before her. She went to pick up the smooth amber sea glass, holding it up to the fire, the honey flecked stone's beauty causing her to gasp._

" _Why do Mermaids cry?" Nikita looking up at her mother, curiosity swirling behind wide deer-like eyes._

 _A moment of silence passed between them, save for the sound of laughter and chatter amongst her family and the soft lullaby of the Pacific tide. Her mother's arms came around her, cloaking the two of them in a warm blanket, her chin resting on top of her daughter's head. Sarah started, choosing her words carefully. " They wish their human friends could coexist with them, but their world is not meant for us. Their world is dangerous, Nikita. There are bad people out there who want to hurt them."_

 _Nikita thought that to be preposterous, of course living beneath water wasn't meant for humans._

 _Sarah planted a kiss on top of Nikita's head. "I love you." She whispered, squeezing her little girl tight. Sarah having troubles masking the melancholic quiver in her voice." don't you ever forget that. All I want is for you to be happy."_

 _The scent of smoke from the bonfire wafted into the night air. She was one of the few who loved the rough scent of fire._

Nikita's watery eyes opened to the woods around her, the scent of bonfire still lingered in the forest air. She sat up quickly, hair disheveled, brows bunched together.

It was the Hale house.

The breeze traveling through the trees carried the charred scent of the burnt down home. It was as though the house was calling to her, beckoning her, haunting her. Nikita had only seen the House behind a few rows of trees, she could never bring herself to go inside. A tight knot settled in the bottom of her stomach, any peace she had felt had turned into a bitter unease. Nikita hopped off the branch, grabbing her shoes and backpack. She had spent enough time with nostalgia and nature.

Walter and Derek's voice in her head. "Stay out of the woods."

* * *

"So like I said...First String." Stiles leaning his elbow on the bleacher, looking as effortless as possible. It was as if he took a page out of Jonesy's book.

"Wow." Nikita forcing herself to sound enthusiastic, when she really didn't care for lacrosse. She was only here for Stiles; no one else.

Stiles shrugged his shoulder, licking his bottom lip for a moment. "Yeah it's like- you know, it's not a big deal. It's just what I do."

"Are you nervous at all?" Nikita purposely trying to get him to squirm.

"Pfft." Stiles looked to the side and swallowed thickly. "N-no.'

"Really? Because the other team has the biggest midfielder I have ever seen, have you seen the size of him? He looks like a bouncer, I bet-"

Stiles raked his fingers through his dark hair. "Wow, you're just, really at it with the motivation tonight." His words full of sarcasm.

"Go Cyclones! Blow them away! Blow them until you can't blow no more!" Nikita throwing an enthusiastic fist in the air. "Is that motivation enough?"

"I'd rather not partake in the blowing, thank you." Stiles nodded his head. "Anyways, you being here is motivation enough."

Nikita's arms went to wrap around her stomach, wrangling the butterflies that flew with iron wings, those iron wings crashed against the walls of her stomach. "Shut up!"

Stiles let out a laugh, his hand rubbing the back of his head."The act of shutting up isn't one of my strong suits. And it looks like taking a compliment isn't one of yours."

Her hand went to wrap around Stiles' mouth, Stiles playfully putting up a fight, grabbing at her wrists. The two of them erupted into laughter. "Why are your hands so small? You're so dainty! You have to try better than that."

Stiles had yet to get into his uniform, instead he wanted more time with Nikita before hitting the locker room. Her fingers came around the end of her beanie, pulling it down to cover her ears, Beacon Hills was freezing once the sun set. Stiles let out a half wave, looking past her. Nikita peered over her shoulder to see Sheriff Stilinski up in the bleachers, giving his son two thumbs up -encouraging Stiles- quickly putting them down at the sight of Nikita, and giving her a wave instead. She gave him a friendly wave back. The bleachers were starting to fill out, her attention returning to Stiles.

"That's adorable, you're dad's here!" Her hand patting the side of Stiles' arm.

"And yours too!" Stiles on the tips of his toes, looking over Nikita even though he was much taller than her.

Walter stood beside the popcorn cart, a soda clenched tightly in each hand, his eyes burning fiery holes into Stiles. Walter had what Nikita called the 'Derek Hale glare' making no effort to mask his dislike for the Sheriff's son.

Stiles' lips pulled into a hard line, his keen observations going off the charts. "I don't think your dad likes me…"

Nikita snorted a laugh, waving her hand in the air with dismissal. "Nah, he for sure likes you, he just has that kind of face, you know? Plus he's just trying to figure out if he wants buttered popcorn or- hold on-"

She turned around to face her father, with her hands hollowed around her mouth she shouted obnoxiously. "I CAN'T WAIT TO PUT YOU IN A RETIREMENT HOME!" Nikita expertly wearing a fake smile and nodding her head.

"WHAT?" Walter shouted back across the field, passersbys giving the two of them annoyed glances. "I DIDN'T HEAR WHAT YOU SAID- BUTTERED? OR KETTLE?"

Nikita didn't bother giving Walter an answer, instead giving him a thumbs up, she would just have to be surprised with whatever choice of popcorn he went with. Knowing Walter, he would be fearful of messing up, and go with both options.

"I think he got the hint." Stiles finger wiggling in his ear. "And I think I have a possible case of tinnitus, thanks for that."

"You think so?" Nikita's lips scrunching to the side. "I'm certain I could have been a bit louder."

"I could get you Coach Finstock's megaphone, if you like."

Nikita let out a laugh, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Don't be reckless Stiles, you're just asking for a death wish. Also, that's the most romantic thing a guy has ever offered me."

Stiles' brows danced up. "Really? Wow Jackson really set the bar low."

A blanket of stiff silence fell between the two, Nikita nervously tucking her hair behind her ear, looking to his worn out sneakers rather than his eyes. Being here was enough, she didn't want to hear Jackson's name.

"Look, I know things have been...awkward for you...at school." Stiles easing her into a conversation she so desperately wanted to avoid.

Nikita could feel the heat of humiliation crawling up the back of of her neck. Not only was he mentioning Lydia and Jackson -both of whom were at the game- but Scott as well. Stiles must have known what had happened between her and Scott. She grew uncomfortable where she stood, yet she managed to look him in the eyes again.

"I just wanted to thank you for actually showing up. It means a lot to me." Stiles' bourbon eyes bright with gratitude. "Anyways." He started, pushing them away from the topic. Stiles jumped, surprised by the vibration of his phone, which was tucked away in his back pocket. Nikita could see the illumination of the screen reflecting in his dark eyes, wondering what he was reading. Whatever it was, had him worked up, his brows met together, worry washing over his features.

"Hey." Nikita's hand going to gently place on top of his shoulder, garnering his attention. "Are you okay?"

"I..have to go. Uhm. I'll talk to you later?" Stiles tucking his phone back into his pocket.

Nikita blinked wide, he planted a kiss on the top of her cheek. She wasn't sure if she was mortified or just surprised. Stiles pulled back looking rather horrified himself. The two of them found it impossible to hold eye contact with each other, Stiles seeking out a much needed distraction in the thread hanging off the end of his sleeve. Nikita finding it easier to look at her chipped pink nail polish, chipping her polish even more.

"I shouldn't have done that…." Stiles having yet to look at her.

"...Yeah that was-" Nikita trying to find a way to let him down easy. " Generally people don't go around kissing...that was weird..you shouldn't do things like that unannounced." She admitted, attempting to hide her dimple.

A rosy blush spread across Stiles' fair complexion."I'm going to pretend like that didn't happen, and I ask you do the same."

"At least you didn't punch me in the tit this time." Nikita attempting to make light of the situation, it only seemed to make things worse. Stiles mouthed the words 'oh my god' the red in his face deepening in color.

She watched his awkward ostrich-like run, Stiles sprinting off the field and heading for the locker room. That was the second time Stiles had run away from her, he really didn't know how to handle situations such as this. Nikita couldn't get rid of the smile on her face, yet she would never admit to the reason of her smile. The moment turned sour when her intrusive thoughts kicked in. She didn't want things to move fast, especially with how things ended with Jackson. Nikita needed time to heal from her wounds, she needed to stop plugging her grieving with boys and distractions.

* * *

\- Walter's POV-

"I'm so nervous." Melissa McCall sighed, Walter planting a kiss on her forehead. "What if she doesn't like me? You make her sound so terrifying."

Walter cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing the top of her cheeks. "She'll like you, everyone likes you."

Melissa took in rapid breaths in and out, like she were going into labor. "Alright i'm just going to uh, grab a hot dog, maybe three. Here I am meeting your teenage daughter for the first time and all I can focus is on stress eating." The nurse going off on a tangent before excusing herself.

He made his way to the bleachers, looking for a spot to save for his girlfriend and daughter, two sodas in hand. Walter came face to face with Chris Argent. He knew they would cross paths eventually, hoping it wouldn't have to be so soon. The Argent patriarch looked much the same as Walter had seen him last all those many years ago. He was a hardened man, one could tell by the deep lines around his vibrant eyes. Chris Argent could never look like a dad next door, he walked with far too much confidence for a man who joined the monthly homeowners association club meetings.

"Walter." Chris being forced to look up, Walter being the taller of the two.

Every fiber of his being wanted to scream at the top of his lungs and throttle the hunter before him. Walter would never forgive the Argents and their reckless actions. He was in no mood for small talk, so Walter cut straight to the point."What are you doing here, Chris?"

"My daughter and I are here to watch the game. It seems as though you and I are here for the same reason." Chris holding an olive branch, waiting for Walter to take it; with no such luck.

"I need you to stay away from my daughter." Walter stepping up to the older hunter, the intensity of pure loathing burning behind his hazel eyes. "More importantly I need your homicidal sister to stay far from her too."

"Did someone say my name?" Kate butting into the conversation with her dazzling mocking smile.

Walter could feel his anger threatening to break the calm facade he wore. Just the sight of her face enraged him. How could she stand there? Pretending she had done nothing wrong. She had disobeyed her code, and murdered innocents. He didn't dare speak a single word about Scott McCall being a werewolf, or warn Chris to stay away from Melissa's boy, for fear of putting his life at risk. Kate was a wildcard, she wouldn't care if Scott was a boy. A target would be painted on his back immediately.

"Don't worry, Walter. Nikita is fine...unless she's a werewolf. Would make sense given how close she was to those insufferable whelps." The snake of a woman purposely prodding at his impatience. Walter stepped towards her, only to feel Chris' hand on his chest, pushing him back.

Chris and Kate remained unmoved, assessing Walter to be a non-threatening human. "We have more in common than you think, Walter." Chris' eyes landed on Allison who had just arrived at the game. "We would never hurt Nikita, and we would never expose her to the supernatural. You and I both seem to understand that's the best and only way to protect our girls."

"Stop comparing us. You end lives, I save them."

Kate let out a snort. "There's an Alpha out there, and you two are bickering like two school 'll both find out about the supernatural, it's inevitable; and you better pray to god they'll be prepared for when it comes."

* * *

\- Stiles' POV-

 _Stiles wasn't supposed to be here, no. He was supposed to be scoring goals in front of Nikita and sweeping her off her feet. It was a last second decision when Derek had texted him, something about the possible Alpha hiding out in the hospital. It was a sacrifice that had to be made in order to save his best friend and the innocent citizens of Beacon Hills._

 _Cold and calculating red eyes paralyzed Stiles where he stood. Fear had gripped him with no intentions of letting go. The hospital lights above him flickered-of course they were flickering- completely normal in a small town hospital._

 _He had missed his first game off the bench - the chance to wow the girl of his dreams- to possibly meet his own death instead. The Reaper being none other than Derek's uncle, clad in a leather cloak, like he had shopped in the Matrix. He stood there, observing Stiles in all his fearful glory with a smirk on his face. The puckered and burnt skin starting to heal and smoothen itself out like magic._

 _Peter's head tilted in a quick bird-like manner, deep oceanic eyes gleaming with mischief. "I knew it would be you who figured it out."_

 _Stiles swallowed thickly, his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. He took several steps back. "This isn't where I parked my car." As if that could have fooled Peter._

 _Peter took several steps forward, large shadows fell across his face,the deep umbras captured in the hollow of his eyes. "Aren't you going to ask why? Or what i'm after?"_

 _Stiles shook his head, or perhaps it was his entire body that was shaking. "Nope, no, I hear curiosity killed the cat. And I would like to very much remain alive, if that's okay with you."_

 _The corner of the Alpha's lip twitched before pulling tight into a line."It was satisfaction that brought it back, Stiles. Satisfaction is what will bring me back, after I slaughter anyone bearing the Argent name. Even the innocent doe-eyed ones."_

Scott's claws scratched across the surface of his dresser, shreds of wood curling beneath his sharp nails. Stiles watched his best friend in distress, sitting on the edge of the bed. He was panicking much the same as Scott, the two of them having found out who the Alpha is. Derek seemed to form a strong alliance with the older Hale, taking Peter's side, even attempting to convince Scott to join Peter's cause.

"I can't believe the Alpha is Derek's uncle." Scott said between his heavy breathing, trying his best to tame the beast that lurked inside. "What did he say to you Stiles?"

"That he's going to kill anyone with the Argent name, and he specifically hinted...at Allison."

Scott began to pace back and forth in his room, fingers gripping painfully at his hair. "Did he say Allison's name?"

His friend was sinking deeper and deeper into denial. "No, but he made it pretty clear." Stiles' long fingers tapped at the side of his head, as if trying to get the gears into motion. "Although he didn't mention Lydia, Jackson, or Nikita.."

The Beta turned to look at him, his face pinched together with confusion. It was Allison who was under a direct threat, not the other three. "So? If he wanted either one of them dead, or hurt, he would have done it already, back at the video store.."

Scott slumped onto the bed with exhaust, both of them were too tired and much too overwhelmed to sleep. Stiles let his head hit the mattress, feeling the beginnings of a migraine, running Scott's words through his head.

"And Nikita is like family to Peter." Scott trying to ease Stiles' worries, although it should have been Stiles who should have been talking Scott down, with Allison's life in danger.

Once again Stiles let Scott's words sink in. The word family really stuck out and weighed heavily on him. He turned to look at Scott.

"That didn't stop him from killing Laura Hale."

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I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Please let me know what you thought, if you enjoyed it or not ^_^


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello everyone! Thank you to you lovelies who were kind and supportive enough to leave me a review last chapter, your encouragement means THE WORLD to me, you have no idea: PrettyPink01, Wildrecklessyouthinme, It Belongs In A Museum, TW- Addict, Eleanora argent,**

 **I know this is a re-read for a lot of you, I feel so special knowing you guys care enough to keep coming back for more :'] thank you!**

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All things, human and creature alike tend to crawl back to the place they call home. Some seeking solace in their final resting place. Others desperately seeking deception disguised as the familiar warmth of nostalgia, reminiscing in the golden days they had taken for granted. But what of those who came home to nothing, their 'home' filled with ghosts of what was? What happened to those lost souls without a place to call home?

"You're just an animal. An animal looking for a home. A lone wolf looking for a pack." Peter's voice had scratched a corner in Derek's brain.

Peter wanted Derek beside him, for them to be a pack again, to take down the Argents and reclaim the Hale name. It was such a tempting offer. Derek had no intentions of allying himself with the man who slaughtered his sister. A small smile spread on his lips, a smile of a small victory; he had gained Peter's trust. Of course this meant looking like the bad guy to Scott. He couldn't let the Beta in on his plans, for Scott was naive as hell and couldn't keep a secret to save his life. Derek's plan was slowly falling into place, draw Peter close to him and kill him; avenging his sister and absorbing Alpha powers.

Derek stood before what was left of his home. The burnt skeleton stood to serve as a permanent reminder of what hunters were truly capable of, no moral code to get in their way. Peter was right, he had no family, he had no home; that was taken away from him. Like a wounded animal Derek dragged himself into the home, he could never get used to the charred scent that lived inside the walls. He seated himself at the bottom of the rotted steps, resting his head against the bannister. The Beta's body wept with a dull ache, having confronted Peter prior. With his head rested, his eyelids grew heavy, energy fleeting him.

"Such a creature of habit. hobbling pathetically back to the only place you can call home...If that's what you call this place"

His eyes opened wide to see Kate Argent leaning against the front door frame, a heavy ammunition gun in her grips. Raw fear had left ice in his veins, he never expected to come face to face with her again. That fear had thawed into a deep sweltering rage. Derek jumped to his feet. Before he could react any farther she tased him right in the jugular. The numbness spread through his body faster than wildfire and he came crashing to his knees.

Kate circled her kill, he was an ant and she was the sadistic child holding a magnifying glass. Derek squeezed his eyes shut, recalling how he let her in, she's the reason his walls had become impenetrable. She was the reason his demons plagued his sleep at night. She was the one who swept everything from him with just a click of a lighter.

Another jolt shot through the Beta's body as she shocked him between his shoulder blades. "You bitch." Derek managed to choke out, his vision growing foggy.

The huntress kicked him in the mouth with her sturdy boot, Derek now rolled onto his back, tasting the rusty tang of blood that blossomed across his tongue.

Honey, I've been called worse." Kate placed her finger under Derek's chin, lifting his head to meet his eyes "You know what they say… Give a man a match, and he'll be warm for a minute, but set him on fire, and he'll be warm for the rest of his life." With that she sent another wave of electric current through his body, this time right above his heart. Derek fell face first on the floor, his surroundings fading into darkness.

* * *

Stiles' POV

He was having trouble keeping up with Scott's pace, the werewolf expertly navigating through the crowded hallways of Beacon Hills High in desperate search of a solution. Stiles had no clue what Scott was thinking, he had yet to indulge him in his plans. Scott was on a mission, orchestrating a way to protect Allison, who had yet to take him back.

The idea of protecting Allison had become much more complicated than the two had ever anticipated. It was only moments ago when Scott was informed of his academic probation, meaning he wasn't allowed to even attend the dance. Without Scott at the dance, the chances of protecting Allison were slim.

Jackson - much like an unwanted pimple- approached them, both Scott and Stiles letting out a groan. It was recent when Jackson discovered what Scott is, wanting the bite, wanting power. As if his ego weren't enough for the entire town to suffer through.

"I want the bite." His jaw twitching with annoyance. "This is the second time I've had to tell you guys, I want the bite, and I want it now."

Scott and Stiles exchanged appalled glances, put off by his idiocy. His werewolf friend inhaled deeply, trying his best not to pummel Jackson. "Do you understand that there are hunters out there? People who want me dead?"

The pompous jock shrugged his shoulders. "I don't care, I want to be strong again, I want to be the best again."

Scott's eyes flashed a golden yellow, he was doing a poor job at keeping his frustrations under control.

"Hey buddy, maybe you should lay low with the glow stick eyes." Stiles interrupting.

"I can't give you the bite." Scott started, only to be cut short when Jackson grabbed him by the collar. Stiles' ran his fingers over his buzzed hair, things were starting to escalate, certainly grabbing the attention of those around them.

Jackson remained unsatisfied. "I'll figure it out, McCall." A red blush of anger swept over the back of Scott's neck. "And when I do, you'll be sorry."

* * *

Scott's POV

Dread felt like an iron rope constricted around Scott McCall's heart. Peter had revealed himself as the Alpha, things were starting to get trickier now. The vengeful Alpha had sworn to destroy those with the Argent name, Allison included. And now Scott was banned from going to the dance, leaving Allison completely defenseless. He had no way to protect her if he couldn't be there himself. Ideas and solutions had been running in his head non-stop on who could possibly protect her. Stiles was more brains than he was muscles, Jackson was more muscle than he was brains. Scott needed someone with the right balance of both.

He and Stiles entered the locker room, Scott tracking down the familiar scent of musk and Old Spice, it had been masked by a fresh coat of body wash. Scott found who he was looking for. Stiles right behind him, confused as to Scott's pick, he didn't say a word, for once Stiles and his brilliant mind didn't have a plan.

But Scott did.

Both Scott and Stiles peered around the gym lockers to see Jonesy pulling his clothes out of the locker. Jonesy's physique fooled people, he was tall and lean, almost stretched out. He had impressive arms from all the drumming he did. One would suspect the captain of the varsity wrestling team had a six pack, yet no one could tell just by looking at him. Those who had seen Jonesy on the mat knew, his strength and build more impressive than one could imagine.

"You have to be kidding me!" Stiles' voice came out in a harsh whisper. He looked utterly betrayed, feeling like he were second compared to Jonesy, and most often he did.

"Trust me." Scott whispered back.

He approached Jonesy who greeted him with his always friendly smile. " Hey, Scott!"

"Hey." Scott didn't have time for formalities and small talk, he needed to get the situation sorted right away."So you're going to the dance with Nikita?"

His best friend stood behind him with his arms crossed, Stile's foot tapping on the floor in impatience. Jonesy's eyes lit up with a mirth, his smile more bashful than excited. "That's right, I'm trying to think of the right corsage to get her, any suggestions?"

"Yeah, how about a bouquet of get lost?" Stiles suggested dryly from behind Scott.

Jonesy gave Stiles a not-so-subtle roll of the eyes, unbothered and unthreatened by him.

Scott had met Jonesy a few years back in middle school, the two of them shared the same homeroom, and clicked instantly. Jonesy was a good natured boy, even with his debaucherous tendencies, he just knew how to enjoy life. Jonesy was kind, gentle, friendly, and always fun to be around; there was a reason why everyone found him to be likeable. Everyone except Stiles and Jackson of idea of lying to Jonesy didn't sit well with Scott, but he really needed everything to fall into place.

"Weird." Scott started, brows raising. " I heard she changed her mind and wants to go with Stiles instead, right Stiles? That was a thing that happened?"

He didn't need to turn around to tell Stiles was freaking out. Stiles was sent into a fit of coughs, having choked on his own saliva, not expecting any of this. Jonesy blinked widely, baby blue eyes landing on Stiles then back to Scott again. His fingers raked through his dark hair, waiting on the Beta to give him an explanation.

"It was Nikita's idea." Scott trying his best to pass a lie to one of the kindest people in the school. He was wallowing in shame now.

Jonesy let out a scoff, zipping up his gym bag. "I find that hard to believe."

"What is that supposed to mean!?" Stiles snapping behind him. Scott could practically hear the angry twitch in Stiles' right eye.

The wrestler looked to Stiles with a sheepish grin. "Look it's nothing personal, Stiles." Jonesy choosing his words carefully, as if to not offend Stiles. " It's just...Nikita wanted to go with me so we can piss off Jackson together. Make him a little aren't much of a...threat to Jackson." His bright blue eyes looking at Stiles empathetically, assessing him for his lack of muscles and popularity. " If you get what I mean."

Before Stiles could spiral into a fuming rant, Scott cut in. Lying to Jonesy wasn't going to work, yet Scott couldn't tell him the entire truth. It wasn't because he didn't trust Jonesy, he just didn't want to pull anyone into the supernatural world.

"I need you to go with Allison."

As Scott assumed, it left Jonesy stunned. His dark brows coming to meet together, arms crossing over his chest, patiently waiting for an explanation.

"Look, I'm not allowed to attend the dance, ok? I'm on Academic Probation."

Jonesy shrugged his shoulder, leaning against the locker. "She can just go with her friends?"

"She could." Stiles stepping in now, taking the burden of lies, he knew Scott just couldn't do it. "But you see, her ex is in town, and he's super stalker-ish. We just need you to keep an eye out on Allison, that's all."

Stiles' lie seemed to work, Jonesy's expression growing worried as the lie kept growing bigger.

"You can't let her leave your sight, keep her in the dance where it's crowded. And whatever you do, don't bring him up to her, she doesn't like talking about it."

The wrestler sunk his head in his hands, his exasperated body language accompanied with the longest sigh known to man. Jonesy finally looked up, putting his gym bag over his shoulder. "I don't know what the hell you two are up to, but fine, whatever, I'll do it. Just shut up, Stiles."

Stiles opened his mouth to thank Jonesy.

"- I mean it." Jonesy's tense voice a warning. "Just shut up."

With that, he pushed his way past the two of them, done with their shenanigans.

* * *

Nikita's POV

Nikita wasn't one to keep secrets.

She wasn't very good at it. Often looking to the floor, finding it hard to look those she cared for in the eyes. Nikita didn't have much of a poker face, and feeling the weight of guilt was too much for her. So when Scott McCall attempted to kiss her -thankfully failing at it- she had told Allison at once. It wasn't an easy thing to do, Nikita afraid she had failed her friend, afraid she had somehow brought this upon herself. Allison had taken it well enough, better than Nikita expected. It had hurt Allison, Nikita could tell. So when her friend asked her to come dress shopping with her, Nikita obliged at once.

The door to the Argent house opened and the last person on earth she wanted to see had answered. Kate Argent. Kate Argent had that wine aunt vibe going for her, but instead of sipping on a Pinot Noir she was sipping on passive aggression and arrogance.

Her eyes lit up upon sight of Nikita, another dazzling fake plastic smile greeting her. "Oh look who we have here!"

Nikita's inauthentic smile now matching Kate's. "Hello, is Allison ready?" She didn't feel the need for small talk. Small talk was already extremely uncomfortable enough, Nikita would rather eat the dried gum under her car tires than spend a minute chatting with Kate.

Unfortunately Kate invited her inside, the two of them sitting across from each other in the formal living room while they waited on Allison. Nikita's knee bounced up and down with impatience, eyes roaming across the room looking for anything to use as a distraction if Kate were to bring up a subject she didn't like.

"So, Allison tells me you were friends with the Hale family. Remind me, how were you guys close again?"

What a way to start a conversation.

Nikita sunk further in her seat, biting the inside of her cheek instead of throwing a scathing remark at Kate. her fingers worked at the heart shaped necklace, sawing the silver heart back and forth along its chain, Kate following the silver with a feline stare. Nikita's existence and legacy had become intertwined with the Hale tragedy. Anybody who knew Nikita had known she had dealt a great loss at a young age, the Hale story followed her much like her own shadow. She decided it was best to answer Kate this once, and never again.

She cleared her throat, making sure Kate was paying careful attention. Her fingers still at play with her necklace. "My father was best friends with Connor Hale, the two of them went to Highschool, College, and Med-School together. So they had always been in my life."

There was no resonating sadness behind Kate's cold eyes and yet she spoke with such empathy. "Such a misfortune." Kate leaned forward, holding Nikita's steady gaze. "You must have known them well, really well.

Nikita blinked hard, dumbfounded by Kate's incompetence. She had already explained how well she knew the Hale family already.

"It's funny." Kate's fingers curling around her blonde strand of hair. "It was around your age, when I started to really understand my family, and all their secrets."

 _What was Kate on about? What was she insinuating?_

"I think I've missed the humor in this…" Nikita squirming in her seat.

Just then Allison descended the stairs, pulling Nikita from the grueling conversation. Nikita stood up at once, grabbing her purse. Allison greeted the two of them with a wide smile. "Two of my favorite people getting to know each other." She clasped her hands together.

Nikita didn't see what Allison saw in Kate, but now was not the time to express opinions when she just wanted to get the hell out.

"Oh yes, we're getting along swimmingly." Kate spewing lies through her teeth.

* * *

The two girls headed for the mall escalator. Nikita found herself still bothered with her encounter earlier with Kate. Why was she talking as if she knew something about the Hale family that Nikita didn't? Nikita had grown up with Cora, the Hale family was her family as well. They had spent every holiday together, every celebration, every birthday. Kate had found a way to crawl beneath Nikita's skin, and she was itching to get her careless words out.

Allison looked up from her phone. "I hope you're not too set on going to the dance with Jonesy."

Nikita's eyes narrowed on her friend with skepticism. "What are you talking about, Argent?"

"It looks like we're taking different dates to the dance, in fact, your date is here right now."

The two girls reached the top of the escalator, Nikita's eyes widened at the sight of Stiles, who was sniffing away at the perfume counter. Allison walked off towards the dresses, leaving the two of them alone. Stiles ran up to her with the biggest smile on his face, Nikita took a few steps back and physically recoiled from him.

"Hey Nik, I know this is last minute, and I'm really sorry if this isn't what you want, I'm not as popular as Jonesy, or as-" Stiles threw air quotes up. "Classically good looking. Although Jonesy's looks are honestly up for debate. Have you seen his eyebrows? If it's any solace Jackson thinks I'm a pain in the ass, so maybe we can get on his nerves together?"

Nikita wasn't sure how to respond, overwhelmed by Stiles' verbal outpour. "And what happens with Jonesy?"

Stiles gave a roll of his eyes. "Jonesy is Jonesy, there are hoards of people lining up to ask him to the dance. He's taking Allison, we wouldn't want her to go the dance alone."

Nikita remained skeptical to Stiles' answer, had he really gone through all of this trouble just to ask her out to the dance? " If you wanted to go to the dance with me so badly, why didn't you ask me yourself?"

His face went beet red, Stiles shifting in his place, working the courage to tell her how much he was crushing on her. " I didn't think you would say yes."

She took a moment before answering. Truth be told Jonesy didn't show any interest in going to the dance in the first place. Sure he expressed him wanting Nikita to have a great time, but the very core reason for going was to upset Jackson. She would be doing Jonesy a favor by going with Stiles, he would have more fun with Allison who was there without mean intent.

"Well I'm here now." Nikita's infectious smile causing Stiles to smile as well. "Help me find a dress?"

Stiles' dark eyes lit with excitement, the two of them heading over to the dress racks. An hour later Stiles was struggling with holding onto a rather hefty pile of dresses Nikita had handed him. She was in the dressing room as he stood right outside, with the honorable duty of handing her dresses.

"So, why so many dresses?" Stiles' arms starting to feel heavy now.

"I want to look pretty!" Nikita's chipper voice sounding from the other side of the door.

He let out a snort. "But you are pretty, really really pretty." Stiles' voice dipped low so she couldn't hear. "Beautiful, honestly."

Nikita took in her bottom lip to suppress the smile that was threatening to pull across her features. She had heard every word he said and whispered, no one had called her beautiful before, aside from her own mother. She threw the dress she had just tried on over the dressing room door, gesturing for Stiles to pass her the next one.

"And I guess your personality isn't THAT bad." Stiles peppered in, finally garnering a full smile from Nikita.

"I try." She teased.

"Don't try too hard, you'll hurt yourself."

Nikita let out a laugh as she zipped up another dress "Hey!" she jokingly shouted. Stiles' laughter came from the other side of the door. Her smile froze when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. They always talk about how a girl will always find that one unexpected dress that she will fall absolutely in love with. This was it. Nikita looked at herself in the pale blush dress, a color she normally wouldn't have picked out. It was a simple plain dress, very feminine, one would simply pass by it on the racks and never notice. The ruched sweetheart cut dipped elegantly low, the bottom of the dress tapering out with toole. She felt like a ballerina and a princess at the same time. Nikita stood on the tips of her toes, imagining the dress with heels, falling in love even more.

"I found it!."

"..Found what?" Stiles' voice saturated in question.

Nikita twirled in the dress and let it flutter around her."I found the dress!" Excitement starting to course through her veins, she couldn't wait to go to Winter formal with Stiles.

"THE dress? Let me see!" he sounded just as excited as her, standing on the tip of his toes in attempt to peer over the door.

"Nope!" Nikita popped the P, a sly smile tugged at the corner of her lips "You can't see it until tomorrow night. Now go face a corner and close your eyes, I want to show Allison."

"Fine." Stiles muttered under his breath.

Nikita slowly opened the dressing room door a crack to see Stiles was in fact facing the wall with his eyes closed as he whistled a cheery tune. The brunette slipped past the door and walked out to the dress section in search of Allison. Her eyes landed on her friend immediately, but Allison was caught in conversation with a man. Nikita couldn't tell who the man was, his back was towards her. The stranger was clad in a black leather cloak and dark greased back hair. Judging by the expression on Allison's face she looked mighty uncomfortable, trying to hold back a scowl. Something about the stranger felt familiar, like she recognized the back of their head. Nikita started walking towards him, drawn to him like a helpless moth to a flame; wanting nothing more for him to turn around. Allison's line of vision shot past the top of the stranger's shoulders to land on Nikita, wanting for her to pull Allison out of the awkward conversation.

Before Nikita could approach, the man made his way off to the escalators, Nikita missing her chance to see his face.

"That was weird." Allison stated, a pale blue dress draped over her arm.

"Who was that?"

"Some creeper talking about his fondness for my skin."

Nikita's face scrunched in disgust. "Ew, Leatherface much?"

The two girls purchased their dresses and said their goodbye's to Stiles, who decided it was best to meet Nikita at the dance, having errands to take care of prior. Nikita sat in the passenger seat of Allison's car, she was busy re-adjusting her mirrors. Ever since her encounter with the stranger Allison had grown despondent, her anxious behavior starting to weigh on Nikita. She wondered if her friend was thinking of Scott again.

Nikita cleared her throat. "Are you okay, Allison?"

Her friend took a moment, eyes transfixed on the top of the steering wheel, choosing her words wisely. "Do you ever feel like…" Allison's doe eyes falling upon Nikita. "Everyone in this town, even your own family, is keeping a secret from you?"

* * *

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I'm sorry if this chapter felt a little short, it's a set up for the season one final. Flightless Bird, which will be split into two parts. And I think you guys have a pretty good idea with what happens at the end of the finale! Can't wait for the next two chapters!

Please let me know what you think :]


	12. Flightless Bird, Part One

OMG HERE WE ARE AT THE SEASON ONE FINALE. Huge shout out to those of you who have supported me on this journey. It was such a big leap for me but I am so happy I took it, it's been one hell of a journey and I couldn't have done it without you guys. Your reviews have helped me push on even when I felt without motivation. Thank you guys so much, you're all so incredible.

Here is Flightless Bird, Part One.

* * *

He really wanted to throw up the Pizza rolls he had for dinner earlier all over his pant suit.

But it was the only pant suit he owned.

"A man should own at least one sharp outfit, that makes him feel like James Bond." His father had told him when the two of them had picked out his outfit together.

Stiles drummed his finger against his steering wheel to some nonexistent beat stuck in his head. He was filled to the brim with nerves to the point where it was making him feel physically ill. Both he and Scott had lost sleep the other night, dreading Winter Formal and whatever untameable chaos that planned to unfold. They were starting to understand the enigmous Peter Hale, no thanks to Derek, who had gone awol on them. Peter seemed to enjoy theatrics, and if anything were to go down, it would happen at the dance.

The knot in his stomach had hardened like a boulder, anxious for how things would play out tonight. Allison was in immediate danger, placed on Peter's hit list, her crime against Peter being her last name. All of this was panic inducing. Yes , Stiles was going with Nikita Grace to the dance. The thought of going with such a pretty and charming girl should have been exciting to him, it should have made his night. It was hard to allow himself to have this one blissful moment when there was a killer on the loose. Even then a smile appeared on his lips with just the thought of her, a miniscule spark of excitement breaking through a barrier of anxiety.

The powder blue Jeep pulled up into the school lot, students darted across the threshold to reach the gym. Stiles checked himself out in the driver's side mirror, making sure everything was in place. He may not have looked like James Bond tonight, but he sure felt it. Stiles and Nikita agreed to take separate cars, as he was busy running "errands." His eyes left the mirror to look at the top of the gymnasium. The corners of his lips tugged upwards when he spotted his best friend scaling the roof of the school, it made him feel more at ease knowing Scott was here.

Stepping out of the jeep he tightened the tie around his neck. There was absolute excitement in the air as everyone was in their best spirits, Stiles couldn't help but to indulge in that buzz; tonight was going to be alright.

He and Scott would make sure of it.

Stiles inhaled the crisp clean air, before stepping forward. The anxious teen approached the front of the school. There she was, standing at the top of the school stairs like some ethereal being. Nikita was unaware of his presence, her focus on her cell phone, trying to look busy instead of waiting. Stiles on the other hand had to stop at the bottom of the stairs to admire her; he couldn't help but to take it all in. He had never seen her look so dolled up before, she was always a classic beauty, comparable to that of Audrey Hepburn; tonight especially. Nikita was wearing a light pink dress, her dark chestnut hair in elegant loose curls, her makeup soft and shimmery. She wore nude high heels making her legs look miles and miles long. The lights behind her emitted a heavenly glow. Everything about her so soft, so delicate; as if a touch could shatter her. He always thought her to be beautiful, but now he was feeling enchanted by her, so much that he didn't want to take his eyes off of her. Stiles wanted to remember this one perfect calm moment for as long as he could, relish in it, recall upon it when he needed a reason to smile.

She had spotted him staring and covered her mouth to hide her nervous smile, he must have looked like an idiot just gawking at her. Stiles ran up the steps, almost tripping on his own feet to get to her.

"Y-You look beautiful." Stiles stumbled over his words, but she didn't seem to mind.

Her smile grew, the single dimple he loved so much emerged "Thanks Stiles, you look mighty dashing." Her hands straightened his tie for him, for a moment they locked eyes.

Stiles cleared his throat "I got you something, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to but I wanted to." He pulled out a white orchid corsage sitting prettily in its packaging and slipped it on her wrist

"It's perfect." Her voice breathless and genuine, surprised by how much effort Stiles was actually putting into all of this. Her smile so intoxicating Stiles swore he could get drunk off of it alone. But that smile he loved so much fell all too soon when Lydia and Jackson walked up the steps, hand in hand.

Jackson and Nikita avoided eye contact right away, neither ready or wanting to wave the white flag. Lydia however marched towards them, all of hell's fury burning behind her olive eyes. She wasn't one to forget the humiliating situation Nikita had put her through in front of half the school. Students were already pulling out their cell phones, hoping for another show down or bout of drama.

"You two look so precious together." Lydia's honeyed tone thinly veiling her sharp sarcasm. Her hands smoothing out the hem of her white dress."What's it like to go to the dance with the boy who's had a crush on me since the third grade?"

Stiles cringed at being caught in the crossfire; he saw the look of hurt on Nikita's face. Jackson himself looking rather uncomfortable, tugging at Lydia's wrist, wanting the two of them to just go inside.

Nikita stood strong, holding her own, and jutting out her chin in defiance. "I don't know Lydia, what's it like to date my sloppy seconds?" a sheepish smile found its way on Stiles' face. Jackson's face going red. He huffed off, walking into the dance without Lydia, who was trembling she was fuming so hard.

Stiles let out a laugh, and not one of those nervous awkward laughs that he would usually attempt to stifle. But a deep hearty throaty laughter at the sight of Lydia's face. She was staring daggers into him now. "I'm sorry, it's just you walked right into that one." Stiles admitted.

Nikita's laughter coming to meet his own. "You need to think of better insults, Lydia."

Lydia didn't seem perturbed by Stiles and Nikita, the muscles in her face relaxing. "Laugh all you want, Nikita. Without me or Jackson your fifteen minutes of popularity is nothing."

Such cutting words would have hurt anyone, however they flew right over Nikita's head. Instead she crossed her arms, any sort of anger or agitation ceased to exist within her. She seemed tired, done with the fighting. "There are more important things in life. You should try broadening your horizons."

Lydia flipped her brassy hair with her hand and marched towards the entrance of the school, but not before looking over her shoulder. "Enjoy your fall from grace, Nikita. You'll have fun at the bottom of the social pyramid; I know it."

Stiles looked to Nikita, his forehead scrunched in confusion. "There's a social pyramid? I didn't know there's a social pyramid."

She nodded. "Yeah, you probably didn't know because you're not on it." Nikita trying her best to hide her smile, poking fun at Stiles.

"I'm below the social pyramid?" Stiles asked in a mock tone, throwing his right hand over his heart, pretending like he cared.

Both she and Stiles fell into laughter again. Without realizing Nikita's hand slipped into his, it felt so natural and right that neither mentioned it happening. Nikita pulled gently at Stiles' hand, leading him into the dance.

* * *

The gym was packed with teens and body heat, the music shook the floorboards beneath them and vibrated all throughout Stiles' body. Nikita held his hand the entire time, pulling him to the dance floor. He wasn't usually one to dance, who was he kidding? There were many things Stiles sucked at, flirting and dancing being the top of this list. but if that was what made her happy then Stiles would gladly look like a fool for Nikita. Jonesy and Allison were already on the dance floor having the time of their lives, jumping up and down to the beat of the song. Allison looked adorable in her cobalt blue dress, and Jonesy as always looked like he stepped out of a Hipster catalogue in his navy two piece; at least his hair was combed back.

Stiles let out a sigh of relief, as everything was going smoothly. They danced for what felt like hours, neither of them tiring out. Stiles was so lost in the moment he didn't even realize the grand chaotic entrance Scott had made. They were having fun until Nikita noticed Lydia and Jackson making out. She must not have been over the fact that her ex and friend had gone behind her back, betrayal was a difficult bridge to cross over; Stiles couldn't blame her. Nikita excused herself kindly as she left the dance floor. A weak smile was worn on her face, a pretty disguise sitting over the hurt she felt. Nonetheless, Stiles followed her like a lost puppy, sad he couldn't lift her both sat at a table, neither wanting to start conversation, for Nikita was busy burning holes into the back of Jackson's head as he walked out of the gym.

She wanted an apology from him.

Jonesy showed up with a large grin and three drinks in hand "Hey there lovebirds." Stiles felt an immediate blush surface to his cheeks. "I brought you guys some drinks."

He sat quietly between Stiles and Nikita, and handed each a cup of punch. Stiles took the kind gesture, and gave the punch a sip. Pure bitterness danced on the tip of Stiles' tongue and he tried his best not to spit the concoction out.

Jonesy's stupidly wild eyebrow raised in question. "It's spiked, isn't it...Damn Greenberg…"

Nikita too busy downing her drink, as though it were an elixir to life.

Stiles and Jonesy exchanged glances, they had seen her put away before. This wasn't happy 'lets have fun!' drinking, this was aggressive 'forget the night' drinking. Stiles pushed his cup away, he preferred to keep his wits sharp, especially tonight. Nikita grabbed at his cup, consuming another drink right after the first one.

The wrestler wasn't feeling the awkward tension, finding it a good time to pull himself out of the situation. He rolled up his sleeves "alright, I'm out , Allison's lover is here and I'm a free man."

Stiles nodded and thanked Jonesy for his help, he lowered himself to Stiles' level, crystal blue eyes locking onto his. "I need you to keep an eye on her." He cocked his head towards Nikita who was watching Scott and Allison on the dance floor.

Jonesy's protective nature brought out an angry and defensive side of Stiles. Did he truly believe Stiles was incapable of anything? "What the hell do you mean?"

Jonesy gave Stiles a friendly pat on the back. "Just don't be stupid tonight, alright? That's all i'm asking." And with that he left without further explanation, avoiding any type of confrontation.

The DJ put on a slow love song, and the lights turned low.

Nikita almost shot out of her seat with excitement "I love this song!" her hand placed over her heart, expressing how much she in fact loves the song. Being the gentleman his father taught him to be Stiles got out of his seat and extended his hand out to Nikita, such a smooth move made Stiles beam with a confidence he never knew he had. Her small delicate hand - they really were small- rested in his and he pulled her up. They walked to the dance floor hand in hand. Stiles was great at improvising and pretending, just like his dancing; he truly didn't know what to do or where to go from here.

He looked over to Scott who mouthed the words "like this" As he placed his arms around Allison's waist.

Stiles copied what his best friend did, his arms wrapped around Nikita's waist and pulled her in close. She rested her head against his chest, her head fitting perfectly under his chin. Stiles couldn't help but to smile, Scott was beaming as well, proud of his best friend. Stiles pulled her in even tighter, closing his eyes, and together they rocked steadily back and forth to the beat of the song. Dancing wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, surprisingly rhythm came to him naturally.

Everything about this moment felt right, every little detail was perfect; from the soft blue lights dancing across the gym, to the white confetti snowflakes descending on them. The Jasmine scent of her hair made his heart sing, instantly making him feel warm inside. Her slow breathing took the weight of the world off his shoulders, only for a moment he was able to forget about Kate Argent, Derek and Peter Hale. Stiles' mind thinking of the first time he saw her, in her red high tops, how terribly he had misjudged her then. How they would bicker back and forth before getting to know each other. All the hours they spent together working on their project, how they had opened up about their mothers. He had never talked about his mother or what caused her death to anyone other than Scott.

Stiles inhaled her jasmine scented hair once more, it was such a comforting smell. 'This is probably what heaven smells like.' Stiles thought to himself.

The first time he had been enveloped in that scent was the night of her party, when she tripped and he had caught her. She had rested her head on his chest; much like she was doing right now. Stiles remembered the night she was attacked in the video store, his smile was no more as he thought of how terrified he was for her. A sudden urge came over him, how badly he wanted to protect her, hold her, and never let her go.

Stiles Stilinski wasn't crushing on Nikita Grace, he was falling for her hard, falling madly and deeply.

She had a hold on him, and he didn't mind at all.

His brow hitched, he could feel her smiling against his chest, he pulled away from her "What's so funny?" She looked at him with her large deer like eyes, bits of confetti resting atop her head. Boy did she look adorable.

Nikita bit her bottom lip, fighting back her coy smile. "I could feel your heart practically jumping out of your chest."

What further proof did Nikita need to prove Stiles was completely enamoured by her? This was his moment, and he wasn't going to mess it up. Stiles leaned in close, the tips of their noses were just barely touching. To his surprise Nikita didn't pull away, seemingly fine with sharing such an intimate space with Stiles. Even then, Stiles was much too scared to go in all the way, truth be told he had never kissed anyone before. Except for his third cousin, but that was by accident and he wore a black eye for a week because of it.

"You coward!" Stiles thought to himself. He had to seize the moment. Stiles' eyes shot open as her lips pressed against his. He immediately pulled back, completely shocked, did she really just make the move?

She looked just as terrified as him, but Stiles wasn't going to let this go. Confidence shot through him like a geyser as he grabbed her and kissed her deeply. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers ran over his buzzed hair. Stiles was lost in euphoria, never wanting this moment to end. This time she was the one to pull away . Stiles stroked the side of her cheek, her fair skin felt like silk. Nikita closed her eyes and held his hand against her cheek with both of her hands. It was a beautiful sight, they both relished the moment, Stiles couldn't help but to smile. When she opened her eyes she looked concerned, saddened….This was not good.

He squeezed her hands, showing genuine concern "What's wrong?"

Nikita shook her head "I can't." she whispered as she backed away from him, he reached out and grabbed her hand. But she pulled her hand away, frantic like a deer "I-I'm sorry…I just…I need to get out of the gym."

His hand fell to his side, somehow he had managed to screw up royally. Everyone around him was still dancing, lost in the melody of a love song. A moment ago he was the luckiest man in the gym, she didn't bother to turn around and look at him as she ran off the dance floor.

He watched his dream girl disappear.

* * *

And that was the end of Flightless Bird Part one, kept this one short and sweet because the next chapter will be ONE HELL OF A CHAPTER. I hope you guys enjoyed this, Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! I would love to know your thoughts or criticisms.


	13. Flightless Bird, Part Two

**Hello Everyone! Here we are at Flightless Bird, Part two!**

 **I have so many of you to thank. When I started this re-write I expected to write to an audience of no one. You have all been so amazing, I couldn't have made it this far without you guys. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for the love, the support, the kind words, listening to me talk about this story, proof reading my work, reviewing my work.**

 **Thanks to: Wildrecklessyouthinme, Ms. Fortunate, It belongs in a museum, xXbriannaXx, The city of books, Lionheartmisfit, Januarylily, Kisaageckos, Maddie Rose, Aflourescentadolescent, EleanoraArgent, The Chosen Pen, SusieSamurai, Wild stdreams, Allybz, Dubonet the writer, ApolloArgent,princessdarkness12, Ferallahey, TW- Addict, PrettyPink-01, Friendly neighborhood hufflepuff, and Lys Dez**

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Stiles stood alone in the center of the dance floor, time had slowed as he watched the girl of his dreams walk away from him. The same love song they danced to now coming to an end. Everyone around him was happy, holding their loved ones close. The heartbroken teenager stuffed his hands in his pockets. His head hung low in shame, he made his retreat to the table, barely picking his feet off the ground. Scott and Allison were giggling as they ran off the dance floor hand in hand. Stiles was happy for his best friend, glad Scott sorted things out with Allison; but watching the two of them while he was miserable was making him feel annoyed.

A hand grabbed him before he made it to his seat, well manicured nails digging into his right bicep; it was Lydia.

"Where did he go Stiles? All I wanted was one slow dance!" She was irritated over Jackson slipping out of the dance, tears welling in her olive green eyes. It seemed Jackson was already losing interest in Lydia, and she knew it.

He pulled his arm out of her grip with much displeasure. "I don't know, Lydia, nor do I care; knowing him he's probably under the lacrosse bleachers getting drunk." His answer didn't seem to please her for she gave him the dirtiest glare and made her leave.

Stiles didn't care, he had his own troubles to worry about. He took a seat next to Danny and his date, Evan. Stiles looked to Danny, "do you find me attractive?" He needed some sort of confidence booster no matter how desperate it seemed. He was sure he could find it in good old honest Danny.

Lo and behold Danny - too honest for his own damn good- scrunched his nose like he picked up a foul scent, Stiles going to smell his armpit."Sorry Stiles, you're too skinny to be my type." Evan however leaned in, straightening his bow tie.

"You're definitely my type." Evan's input was kind, but it still didn't make Stiles feel any better.

Danny looked to his fallen friend, the forlorn expression on Stiles' face starting to grate at him rather than bringing out his sweet and sympathetic side. "Stop sulking so much! I saw the whole thing." At that Stiles sat up straight, he was certainly talking about the kiss; Danny nodded as if to confirm Stiles' thoughts.

"Why did you let her leave, Stiles? She clearly likes you."

I-wh-what are you talking about?" Stiles sitting straight in his seat now, growing more attentive.

Danny's smile grew. " I know everything about everyone in this school,Stiles. Despite Jackson being a dipshit, Nikita and I are still pretty close. And despite you being the most socially inept human... I see the way she looks at you, she never looked at Jackson that way."

Stiles shot out of his seat like a rocket, hands planted on the edge of the table. His over the top reaction garnering the attention of those around him. "Danny, don't joke around right now."

Danny only let out a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Stiles….There is something there, you're never going to have a chance with a girl like Nikita if you don't take initiative."

"You need to make the move." Evan piped in, excitement oozing with every word.

"Show some confidence." Danny added, Stiles' head whipping right and left listening to them handing him life advice. He wished he had a pen and notepad to jot all of this down. Girls, romance, it was all so new and complicated to him.

"She needs to know you want her." Evan resting his chin on his hand, that dreamy far off romantically induced stare gazing into him.

Danny nodded. "More importantly she needs to be assured she's not dating another douche bag who'll hurt her."

Evan started bouncing up and down in his seat, all giddy like a child, drink in his hand, his excitement starting to rub off of Stiles. "Oh I love romantic shit so much! Go chase her! Go!"

Stiles didn't need to be told twice, he ran out of the gym to find her.

* * *

 **-Nikita's POV-**

She took the rear door out of the gym. Beads of sweat already forming on her lower back, Nikita's cheeks flushed and rosy; she needed fresh air...needed to be alone with her thoughts. Her mind felt like a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. Was she excited? Was she hopeful? Was she terrified? Was it fair of her to leave Stiles like that? Her life desperately needed a pause button, her intrusive thoughts coming at her much too fast. A gaggle of drunken teenagers walked out. One doubled over and grabbed a lunch bench for support, throwing up right away, having hit that punch bowl a little too hard. The wet retching noises were starting to nauseate her, she watched as he wiped his filthy mouth with the back of his tuxedo sleeve. As soon as he spotted Nikita he and his friends erupted into harsh whispers.

"Hey, you're the girl Jackson dumped, right? I heard he did Martin in your bathroom while you were just downstairs." He burst into a howling laughter, his friends joining in like hyenas. Her naivety and the betrayal she endured a hysterical punch-line to them.

Nikita gritted her teeth in order to choke back cruel words that would create little impact upon such moronic beings. She began to walk away; flicking them off as she ventured further and further from her campus. There was one place where she could be left alone, one place no one would go looking for her.

The woods.

She immersed herself deep in the woods. Only going far enough to stray away from the music until it drowned into a muffling bass, far enough from the annoying classmates. Her nude heels sunk easily into the wet earth with every step. She could care less for her heels, her dress, or for this night. A mossy tree provided her something to lean on as she began to process her thoughts.

She had kissed Stiles, Stiles had kissed her back…and she enjoyed it. Her finger traced her lips where his were only moments ago, lightly smearing her pale pink lipstick. An undeniable pang of guilt resonated in her for leaving him like that, she had panicked. It's not that Nikita was blindsided, she could feel this coming for weeks; their affection slowly building for one another. Stiles was the first person to give her attention since Jackson. She didn't want to admit how good the attention and validation felt when she was still licking the wounds Jackson and Lydia had inflicted upon her.

It wasn't fair for her to move on with Stiles when she wasn't completely over Jackson, or what Jackson had done to her. Moving on so soon was bound to go wrong in the long run, like how she tried to ease the heartbreak of her mother's death by dating Jackson. Dating Stiles after Jackson and Lydia was bound to be a terrible idea. Truth be told, she didn't care much for Jackson when they were dating, she was hardly invested in him, he still managed to hurt her. What would happen if she were to date Stiles? Someone she actually cared about? He had so much power and leverage to hurt her. Men letting her down seemed to be an obvious pattern in Nikita's life. But Stiles was the 'good guy' the safe bet compared to loose canon Jackson Whittemore, he would never hurt her.

She couldn't stop thinking of that kiss she had shared with Stiles.

Her brows scrunched in confusion, the weirdest giddy sensation coming over her, like her heart could pour out sunshine. And she found an impish smile on her face. This puppy crush on Stiles would be the end of her. She wanted to allow herself this one good thing, to stop her mind from being so over-analytical. Maybe she deserved to let herself feel, maybe she was being selfish. Going back inside would be the first step in salvaging the night, she could hopefully smooth things out with Stiles.

She allowed herself to close her eyes for a moment, let the woods whisper to her through the gentle night breeze. The scented pines and smell before the rain casting a spell of tranquility on her and the woods. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, ready to approach Stiles now.

Nikita froze at the sight of a shadowed figure slowly approaching her from between the trees. The tall figure came closer. The familiar and overpowering scent of spice and Tom Ford hit her like a brick wall, her body sending a negative cognitive response associated to that scent, causing her to shudder. It was Jackson. His face was pale and washed over, his jaw clenched, angry at god knows what.

"What are you doing out here?" Nikita couldn't hold back the bite in her voice, arms crossing over her chest with disapproval.

Jackson drew near, his palm planted on the tree she was resting her back against, trapping her there. He shot her an incredulous look which she refused to meet, his full lips pulling into a smug curl.

"I'm sorry, is this part of the woods yours? Anyways, I could be asking you the same thing." His shaky hand lifted a round silver flask to his lips. She could smell the sharp scent of tequila on his breath.

"Does Lydia know you're drinking?" Nikita's tone softer this time, hoping he would bore of her niceness and leave.

"Does Stiles know you're out here avoiding him?" Jackson retorted, taking another large swig from the flask.

He had called her out, and the heat of embarrassment was starting to burn the tip of her ears. A heavy awkward silence fell between the two of them, a friendly smile appeared on his lips as his hand stroked a strand of hair off her face. She was not going down this road again, her hand smacking his away.

"You could have been a decent girlfriend." Jackson lamented. "If you weren't such a frigid bitch."

Nikita let out a snort of a laugh, rolling her eyes at him. "You never stood a chance at being decent, so here we are."

She had expected him to put up his defensive walls and tend to his bruised ego, throw a slew of insults at her. To Nikita's surprise Jackson passed her the flask, and he nodded as if agreeing with her statement.

Jackson shrugged his shoulders. "I came out here looking for something, something I wanted with all my heart." His soft eyes landed on hers. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Nikita. Drink up, it's a cold night, this will keep you warm." He said before walking away and leaving her alone in the woods.

She hadn't even realized the goosebumps that decorated her pale skin, it was freezing out. Her fingers worked at twisting the top off the flask, bringing the cold rim to her lips. Like Jackson said, the tequila warmed her up right away, igniting in the pit of her belly and spreading all throughout her body.

'Fucking Jackson." She muttered against the silver rim before taking another sip, cringing at how disgusting and bitter the tequila tasted. "Can't let me have one moment of clarity."

Her fingers felt around the smoothness of the round flask, thumbing over the engraving of Jackson's family crest. The more she held the flask, the more she became annoyed with the egotistical jock. The flask in her hand was probably a present from his father, for joining a country club or learning how to park a boat. The flask itself was worth more than his tuxedo, it was without flaw or scratches. Jackson was so cruel and careless with the people who dared enter his life, but kept all his material possessions pristine. He had taken care of the stupid flask with careful delicate hands.

He couldn't be bothered to do the same with Nikita.

In an abrupt move Nikita wound her arm back to throw the flask, chucking it as far as she could with all her might. "Suck it Jackson!" She shouted, even though there was no way he could hear her, having vanished back inside the gym.

After reveling in the glory of her actions the familiar feel of guilt was back. "I should go inside." She thought to herself; find Stiles and apologize.

But her train of thought was cut short.

The sudden sound of twigs snapping made her body stiffen, before realizing what it was.

"Jackson, fuck off and go find your girlfriend." Nikita running out of patience and refusing to turn around to face him.

It wasn't Jackson, a faint low growl was heard. Immediately Nikita's eyes shot wide open and both her hands covered her mouth to keep her from screaming. She knew that growl, she had heard it before…The night of the video store. The growl came closer, stalking from behind her. Nikita was told the mountain lion was shot dead in the school parking lot, it was all over the news. How was this possible?

The creature was behind her, blocking her way back to the school, preying upon her. Slowly and silently Nikita reached down to take her heels off. She didn't have time to weigh her options,her only chance of survival was to outrun the beast.

* * *

 **-Stiles' POV-**

Stiles poked his head outside to the front entrance of the school where a group of girls were taking selfies. "Hey, any of you seen Nikita Grace?" her name was well known enough for people at their school. But none of them had seen her. He looked to see her mini cooper still parked at the front of the school, meaning she hadn't left.

He scoured every corner of the school, the one place he hadn't checked was the girls bathroom.

Stiles waited patiently outside the door as gaggles of girls entered and exited the bathroom, none of them Nikita. He wondered if she was alright, if she was just as nervous and freaked out as he was. Danny's little pep talk had fired Stiles up, and he was ready now. He was ready to tell Nikita how he felt, he needed her to know he would never treat her the way Jackson had treated her. Stiles pacing outside the girls bathroom, trying to construct the conversation he hoped to have with Nikita in his head.

His head perked up when he saw Jackson.

"Where did you go!?"

Jackson looked pale and shaken to his core. "I went into the woods, looking for the Alpha."

"You...What?" Stiles could have face palmed himself right there, the sheer stupidity of Jackson was so baffling at times, no wonder the Alpha didn't want him.

Jackson patted his forehead with a napkin, drying off the sweat that had formed there."On my way back inside, I ran into Chris Argent...and his many guns."

Stiles' fingers painfully raked through his buzzed hair. Peter was out there somewhere, Argent and his militia at the school doors, and Nikita was missing.

"Have you seen Niki?"

Jackson nodded "She's outside, have you seen Lydia?"

Stiles' brow hitched up with that questionable sentence. "I told her you were probably drinking under the lacrosse bleachers…Where exactly did you see Niki?"

Jackson ran his fingers through his blonde hair, trying to ease his nerves with no avail. "In the preserves, where I left her."

Stiles backed away slowly."So Argent and his guns are out there, Peter Hale is out there...and you left Nikita...in the middle of the woods?"

"What!" Jackson spat in annoyance. "Chris won't hurt her, and didn't you say she's Peter's family or something?" Jackson not understanding his mistake.

"Yeah." Stiles nodded. "Just like Laura Hale." Peter would have no qualms with killing Nikita if he felt little remorse for what he did to Laura. Stiles' mind going a thousand miles per second now remembering his dreadful encounter with the Alpha from the other day. Peter made it clear he was going after those who have wronged him. And more importantly he was going to build his pack, with Derek at his side, and hopes of recruiting Scott. What a feeble pack it would be with the three of them...unless Peter meant to grow the pack. How he expressed his obsessive need for a pack, for family. Stiles' eyes grew wild with fear, possibly grasping at the loose threads Peter intended to weave into the most devious of plans. Allison was just a decoy, the distraction to get straight to Nikita. The perfect addition to Peter Hale's pack.

Stiles bolted out of the gymnasium without a second thought, Jackson shouting after him.

* * *

 **-Nikita's POV-**

She raced through the center of the endless black woods. Nikita swore her rapid-beating heart was stuck in the back of her throat, making her want to retch. Perhaps that was just the bile rising from the pit of her stomach.

The deeper she ran, the farther she was from the school. Nikita could no longer hear the music from the dance, only the deafening sound of blood pounding in her ears accompanied by her ragged breathing. She couldn't even hear the terrifying creature that was after her, but imagined it to be close behind.

There was no chance of a human outrunning an animal.

Nikita had to try.

The steady downpour of rain was blinding, pelting the skin of her face and distorting her vision. Thick silver wisps of fog wrapped around her like a silken cloak, skewing any sense of direction she had. Nikita couldn't even tell where she was in the woods. Her old friend, her playground, her slice of solitude from society was no more. In an attempt of trapping its kill the beast managed to chase her into unfamiliar territory.

It didn't matter, she had to keep running if she wanted to live, eventually she would hit a main road or find familiar grounds.

Nikita's legs pumped ferociously, working twice as hard as ever. The muscles in her calves coiled tightly before unravelling, making her legs feel like jelly. With every stride she became more clumsy, it was hard to keep going when it felt like her feet were made of lead. A fire seared within her lungs, how they tightened and strained, how they struggled to keep the oxygen flowing into her brain. She had never pushed herself to this limit before. It was humanly impossible to keep going. Nikita was giving it everything she had, letting the fire in her grow bigger and bigger, allowing it to spread, consume every part of her. For the incineration she felt inside her would surely hurt less than the mountain lion tearing the flesh right off her bones.

Nikita couldn't look back, if she looked back she would meet certain death.

Gravity was unkind in pulling her down when her foot snagged in a twisted root. Nikita fell face first, the wet earth coming to meet her body. She laid there for a moment frozen to the very core of her being, too afraid to move. She stared into the puddle of black mud, face and body covered entirely. All it took was one steady inhale and one large exhale in attempt to steady the rate of her heart. It may not have steadied, but it certainly slowed. Nikita stayed to the ground, laying low, unknowingly allowing the mixture of rain and mud to mask her scent.

The pounding footsteps of the beast ran past her, the confused creature chasing no one. She was in the clear.

A thread of courage pulled her up on shaky legs, there was no time to waste. Her mind and internal navigation a mess, any sense of direction clouded by the irrationality of fear. She needed to seek out safety, desperate for sanctuary. The Hale house was the only thing that came to mind. Her feet hit the ground running again, the pace more manageable this time.

Running across the thick muddy grounds felt more like treading across ignited coals, every stride bringing Nikita to the brink of excruciating pain. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, her head whipping to the right and left, praying she wouldn't find the mountain lion chasing her between the trees. A bush of brambles caught her eyes, the only familiar thing she had seen. She was starting to recognize her surroundings more and more now, remembering a shortcut back to Cora's house. Caught in a whirlwind of panic Nikita mindlessly ran through low hanging branches, pushing on as sharp jagged fingers of wood clawed at her face.

She had finally come to a clearing, a breath of relief escaping her. Her legs had yet to stop from running, her mind completely blank save for the determination to get to the Hale house. The edge of the hill came into view, forcing Nikita to stop herself, otherwise she would have run right off. The rain had cut out, leaving her hair plastered to the side of her face, and her pale dress clinging uncomfortably onto every inch of skin. Thin layers of frost starting to form below her bare feet, winter's harsh cold air nipping at her cheeks.

Nikita walked closer to the edge of the hill, Suicide Hill, remembering how she and Cora used to play chicken to see which one of them would wander closest to the edge, never had she won that game. Nikita peered out towards the stunning view, all of Beacon Hills before her. The warm lights of homes in the distance twinkled whimsically, she wanted to be down there, safe and dry in her own home. Nikita knew exactly where she was, and knew exactly how to get to the Hale house. There was no chance of scaling down the face of Suicide Hill, it was much too slippery, and the fall would be far too great. In order to find safety, Nikita would have to go back into the woods.

An immediate sting blossomed in her right eye, Nikita's hand quick to rub at it. She pulled her hand away to see it was smeared in blood, her fingers traveling to the top of her brows. There she felt a gash running from the right of her temple to the center of her forehead, it must have been from the low hanging branches.

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of rustling bushes caught her attention, forcing her to turn around and face the woods again. Nikita's breath escaped her in a plume of fog. It must have been a breeze, she wanted to convince herself, but there wasn't any sort of breeze.

"Fuck." Nikita shakily blurted out, hunching over to scoop up a handful of mud, sealing her cut right away.

It was too late, the creature had already picked up on the scent of her blood.

The mountain lion emerged from the edge of the woods, stalking towards its prey on all fours. It remained shrouded in darkness, the shadows of the Pines falling upon it. Through the darkness, she could see its red savage eyes, it's gaze remained dead locked upon her. Nikita shook her head in denial, tears welling up, fogging her vision upon realizing there was no escaping this time. She was trapped between the mountain lion and the edge of Suicide Hill. The beast took several steps forward, Nikita took several steps back, never had she been this close to the edge of the Hill in her life. It was toying with her, giving her nowhere to go. Nikita peeked over her shoulder, the fall could possibly kill her on impact...if she was lucky. And if it didn't kill her, it would leave her broken, suffering, prohibiting her from ever living a normal life. She bent over to pick up a branch by her foot, snapping it in half with whatever strength she had left in her weary body.

A makeshift spear held shakily in her grip.

"C'mon!" Nikita screamed, provoking the beast, looking for the last drop of courage in an empty reservoir. "You coward!"

With her spear she jabbed into the air, giving the mountain lion a warning of what's to come if it were to approach further. It did no such thing to hinder the beast, in fact her actions had angered it. Slowly the mountain lion emerged from the shadows, allowing the pale moonlight to wash over its body and reveal its true grotesque form.

It was no mountain lion.

Nikita's eyes widened with sheer terror upon the size of it. The fire that had once ignited in her lungs had been replaced by a stinging cold, crystalline laces of frost grew inside her, her breath fogging in the night air once more. The monster was larger than she could have imagined, black in bristling fur, dreadful claws sinking into the mud, ears pointed skyward…

...And those eyes. Should she live through the night, they would forever be ingrained in her memory.

It lept forward, several feet away from her letting out the most ferocious roar. A scream ripped from Nikita's throat, she found herself taking her last steps back to the edge of the world, the slightest gust of wind could knock her over. Someone must have heard that roar, someone must have been looking for her! Nikita raised her spear only for the monster to strike it down with its claws. The beast opened its mouth wide with another earth shattering roar, its razor sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Nikita looked over her shoulder one more time, the risk of taking the fall was much too great. Her head turned to face forward, the monster was on it's hind legs, towering over her figure; claws -sharper than a razor's edge- reaching towards the moon. Those same claws came to cut her down, with intent to tear her apart.

Nikita pushed herself off the edge.

There was no sudden breath, more like a steady exhale released in the wake of relief when she came crashing down to earth.

She landed on her back with a sickening crunch, every bone of her's splintering upon impacting into the ice dusted ground. Her mind and body in a state of shock, leaving her unresponsive to the pain. Nikita found herself unable to move. She was forced to look at the heavens -the smallest sliver of solace- the moon hung like a jewel in the pitch-tar sky, the stars smiling and twinkling upon her suffering.

Then it came, no amount of tolerance could brace her, for pain had come to feast upon her broken body.

Nikita let out a strangled cry, finding any exertion, even the slightest movement made it worse. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ride the wave of white hot pain. Violence in the form of agony shot from the back of her skull, raking it's twisted claws down her spine. The impact of the fall tore fresh wounds into her body. Heat emanated from the wounds like smoke, allowing the bitter cold to penetrate her bones. Her head felt like it was about to implode, her dying pulse hammering against her ear drum. The warmth of her blood began to gather around her head. She could taste the rust of crimson looming in the back of her throat.

"Help!" her weak voice strained and raspy, there was no one around.

Then came the rough footsteps of the beast stalking towards her. It was not done with her yet. Nikita squeezed her eyes shut and let out another scream, gritting her teeth soon after. With every scream a deep throb would radiate in her chest, like an anvil had been set upon her. It was her broken ribs poking at her lungs.

She continued to scream and cry for help, but there was no one to hear in the heart of the woods. The pattering sound of heavy paws were coming closer now. Fresh tears streamed off the side of her face, warm blood rolling from her ears and nostrils. With every scream she sent herself into another wave of agony. Her fingers - the only thing she could move- clawed at the dirt, as though she could pull herself up. She couldn't feel her toes, any feeling of sensation from the waist down ceased to exist.

Another desperate scream for help lost between her uncontrollable sobbing. It was then she felt it, an unimaginable pain much more ferocious than the hell she was suffering already. Her screaming had caused her broken rib to pierce her lung. Nikita gritted her teeth tight to suppress her cries. She wanted the agony to be over, begging for death, pleading to whatever god was listening. Blood traveled up her esophagus to overflow from her mouth. Nikita lay unable to move, coughing up hot blood. The creature was frantically circling around its prey now. She prayed for it to tear out her throat, to put an end to her suffering.

It was impossible to breathe now, hot blood bubbled in the back of her throat, restricting any airflow. She was choking, and there was nothing she could do about it. The biting cold had constricted around her body, all muscles in her upper body too stiff to tremble.

A stillness fell upon the woods like a plague. The nightingales didn't sing their songs, the crickets refused their symphony in their moment of silence. All was quiet save for the sound of gurgling blood and the beast's heavy breathing. The monster had yet to do a thing, observing its kill as she continued to wither.

It ran off, without a warning or reason. Leaving Nikita to die alone.

Alone.

Like an animal who had hobbled away moments before death, she had found herself in a place of seclusion. Every human or creature was to die alone, Nikita had feared loneliness more than anything.

She didn't want to die alone.

The lack of oxygen to her brain had made her dizzy, the world spinning uncontrollably around her. Blood overflowed from her mouth to stain her chest. In her last moments she could hear both of _their_ voices screaming at her to stay out of the woods. They had warned her, she didn't listen.

Her tear filled eyes rolled to the back of her head as darkness soon embraced Nikita Grace.

* * *

-Stiles' POV-

Heavy feet pounded into the hard pavement like thunder as Stiles ran across the parking lot. Beacon Hills High was practically surrounded by the preserve, Nikita could have been anywhere. His best guess: she was in the preserves behind the lacrosse field.

The steady rhythm of his feet sounded off the hard ground, soon muffled by dewy grass. Stiles' chest already heaving up and down, he was not used to running so fast. He had to get to Nikita before Peter did. He needed to get her far away from him and back inside where she was safe. There she was in the middle of the lacrosse field, surrounded by darkness, standing helpless and confused.

"Niki!" Stiles shouted, but she was too far to hear him.

Stiles ran even faster, nearing to the lacrosse field. That's when the field lights switched on without warning, sharply blinding his vision. Tiny red dots danced behind his eyelids. After a moment his sight adjusted to the bright lights. His eyes shot wide open. It took seconds, seconds too long for Stiles to process the red hair instead of the brunette, the white dress instead of the pink. It wasn't Nikita at all, it was Lydia Martin. He cried out her name and darted across the field, his throat raw and scratchy from all the screaming. Lydia turned to face him, unaware that a half transformed Peter was approaching her.

"LYDIA! RUN!"

Stiles watched as the Strawberry blonde hit the ground, blood spreading like a blossoming rose through her white dress.

He slid on his knees across the slick grass, hovering over her body in a protective stance. Peter -smug and without empathy- crouched next to Stiles, Lydia's blood covering his claws up to the second digits of his fingers. Stiles couldn't follow the game Peter was playing, first Allison, then Nikita, now Lydia? Was Lydia his master plan after all?

"P-please don't hurt Lydia." Stiles begged.

Peter stroked her brassy hair with his blood stained fingers, he let out a sigh and he looked to Lydia with a sorry expression, mocking the situation. "This one didn't put up a fight like the other one. No…This one was easy prey."

The Alpha's words came to Stiles like a punch to the gut upon realizing who he was talking about. "Wh-what did you do to Niki?!" Peter still too busy admiring the mess he made as he stroked Lydia's perfect unblemished face with longing. One could see the rope of obsession he was holding onto, nothing mattered to Peter Hale, only vengeance.

"What did you do to Nikita!?" Stiles asked once more, louder, hating how shaky and weak his voice sounded.

Peter let out a sigh. "The Argent girl, the decoy went as planned. But it was the Pawn that flipped my plans. So I moved onto plan B, Lydia Martin." His tone so matter of factly it was like he didn't even care for Nikita.

Stiles felt an undeniable burning rage within him "WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!? Where is Nikita!?" A gasp escaped from his lips when Peter grabbed his tie and pulled him in close "She wasn't supposed to fight back! She wasn't supposed to resist! She was supposed to be in my pack! Executing my plans! Now shut up and tell me where I can find Derek!" he gently raked his claws over Lydia's throat, drawing white lines across her flushed skin. " help me find him, or I will tear her open."

With quivering lips Stiles tried his best to formulate a sentence, flashes of heat radiated throughout his body, he was on the edge of a nervous breakdown; unsure of what to do. "wh-what? I don't know how to do that."

Peter rolled his eyes "Even if I couldn't hear your trembling heart, I would still be able to tell you are lying. Tell me truth Stiles, or I rip her pretty little throat out."

The taste of bile loomed on the tip of his tongue, never had Stiles felt so afraid and helpless until now. " Okay! Okay! The night Derek went missing Scott's phone went missing as well. Scott has a smartphone, it has GPS built into it…We're pretty certain Derek has it."

Peter grabbed the back of Stiles' shirt and pulled him off the ground, satisfied with his answer. "Good, let's go."

"W-wait! What about Lydia?"

Peter's patience was wearing thin "She'll live."

"And-and Nikita, where is she? Please. Just tell me if she's okay"

Stiles froze upon seeing a flicker of regret and remorse behind Peter's cobalt eyes. He could have fallen to his knees if the Alpha wasn't holding onto the collar of his shirt.

Peter looked off to the side, to the woods. "You won't be seeing Nikita ever again."

* * *

Thank you for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this. Thank you to those of you who gave this chapter a look before I posted it (ApolloArgent, It Belongs In a Museum) Technically this isn't the last chapter of the season! But I can't wait to dive into season two, where you'll be meeting new and familiar faces.

Please let me know what you thought of this chapter :]


	14. Chapter 14

Hello everyone!

Thank you so much for all the positive responses to Flightless Bird part 2. I'm so glad you guys enjoyed it so much, it was a blast to write (can you tell I thrive off of angst?) Did you enjoy the angst? Ok good...because that was nothing compared to what awaits. I know technically I said last chapter was the last chapter of season 1, but really, this one is the last chapter to season 1. Meaning the events of season 2 start next chapter.

Big thanks to those of you who reviewed last chapter!: Princessdarkness12 (thank you for reading this again), Peachy48 (your reviews are the best omg), Demigoddauntless (we're just getting started!), Wildrecklessyouthinme (dude I love you), Thechosenpen (dude that liveread you did on tumblr! thank you!), Brooklynn (your review means the world, no joke), TW-addict (MEANS SO MUCH COMING FROM THE QUEEN OF ANGST OMG) Januarylily (your constant unwavering support amazes me, thank you so much!)

This chapter is short, you know I love keeping things short and sweet, but I hope you guys enjoy it just the same!

-paragraphs that have been italicized are flashbacks-

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A cheerful melody of a whistle left Walter's lips to hang in the air. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet while the elevator descended. His hands were stuffed in his white coat pocket feeling the packs of pudding cups he stowed away for Peter. Getting his hands on hospital pudding was tasking, anyone with common sense and a decent taste pallet would pick chocolate pudding over lime green jello. It was a battle getting these, but it was the little things that made Peter happy. The elevator doors opened, Walter walked down the hall, to Peter's recovery room.

He didn't expect it to be vacant.

Walter blinked hard, confused by the empty bed before him. He withdrew his hands from his pockets, the pudding cups falling to the floor...but he didn't care. Walter's mind was fogged with confusion, he couldn't process the obvious picture before him... Until he approached the bed. Laying there was a clipboard, Walter picked it to see it was a discharge form for Peter Hale, Nurse Jennifer having signed off on it along with a forged signature of Walter's.

The clipboard slipped from his hand to land back on the bed. Realization was an ocean of fear, the undertow pulling Walter beneath the heavy currents. The need for him to get away from the clipboard caused him to stumble backwards, knocking over a chair and landing on his elbows. The Doctor sat up, his shaking hand coming to cover his mouth, eyes still locked onto the empty bed. He had been fooled, he had been blind, the Alpha was right in front of him all along.

A sudden breath escaped Walter when the hospital speakers went off with a shrill ring.

'Doctor Grace to the second floor, code Blue."

Calmly, a little too calmly, he got up to his feet. Every stride out the door feeling heavy; like someone had strapped weights to his ankles. Walter's fingers raked harshly through his dark midnight hair, nails scraping at his tender scalp. "It can't be Peter." He whispered to himself, hospital staff looking at him with peculiar gazes, for he was assuring himself repeatedly out loud. "It can't be, he's immobilized. He couldn't hurt- He would never hurt...Laura." Walter sinking deeper and deeper into denial, even though the truth lingered on the surface.

He found himself on the second floor, all recollections of ever taking the elevator lost upon him. His feet were moving, his body following, but his mind completely numb.

Walter's eyes widened at the horrifying sight before him. In his years of work he had become accustomed to blood, gore, fatalities even. This one in particular struck a heavy chord. Brody's scrubs already blood soaked as he assisted the gurney into the O.R, shouting instructions at a gaggle of terrified nurses. A girl of Nikita's age laid unconscious, three fresh claw marks torn across her stomach. With every stifled breath she took her blood would come pulsating out, drenching her pale formal dress.

"Walter!" Melissa's voice came in sharp, her hand wrapping harshly around his forearm, his girlfriend trying to shake him out of his daze. His mossy eyes were still transfixed on the victim, he had seen her before, he knew that fiery hair. Just then Sheriff Stilinski burst through the hospital door, Nikita's ex -Jackson Whittemore- following close behind. The Sheriff himself looked frantic, yelling orders into the walkie talkie attached to his jacket. He barrelled towards Walter, who was still stuck in a state of shock and denial.

" Animal attack, her boyfriend found her on the lacrosse field." The Sheriff informed Walter, who should have been scrubbing in by now.

Of course, the girl bleeding to death in the O.R was Lydia Martin, one of Nikita's friends.

"Where's my daughter?" Walter's voice, low, almost hushed, no one seemed to hear; or perhaps no really cared.

The Sheriff had heard and turned to look at Jackson Whittemore. "Did you see Nikita Grace at the dance at all?"

Jackson was looking rather nauseous, finding it hard to keep eye contact with either Walter or the Sheriff. " I saw her in the woods before the attack."

Jackson's words came to him like a bullet to the skull. Walter's stomach churning violently at the thought of his daughter alone in the middle of the woods. Melissa let out a gasp, both her hands coming to cover her mouth. Nikita wouldn't venture out into the woods like that, she had been told, warned countless times to stay away. The back of Walter's hand came to wipe at the specks of sweat on his forehead, he could have thrown up right there.

For a moment things faded and Walter blacked out, when he came to his fingers were wrapped around Jackson Whittemore's tie, trying to throttle the boy and screaming " YOU IMBECILE. YOU LEFT HER TO DIE!"

Melissa and a few other nurses were able to pry Walter off Jackson with some struggle, the Sheriff however seemed to care less for Jackson's current situation, finding Nikita's situation to be more pressing. He brought the walkie to his mouth. " Put out an APB for Nikita Grace, last seen in the woods surrounding Beacon Hills High. Teenager, Sixteen, hazel eyes, dark hair. Get out there NOW!"

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\- Stiles' POV-

 _Peter's claws tapped against the window of the Jeep, leaving ruby dots against the glass; Lydia Martin's blood. The headlights of passing cars illuminated the Alpha's face, whatever hint of remorse he held for Nikita had now begun to dissipate, it was evident behind his oceanic eyes. Instead he was gazing hard on the road ahead, vacant in mind, or perhaps deep in contemplation. They had just left Winter Formal, tracking Scott's phone in hopes of finding Derek Hale._

" _Why did you do it?" Stiles' voice cutting through the terse silence to rattle at Peter. "Why did you go after Nikita? She cared for you, she visited you often, she thought highly of you, she-"_

" _She was supposed to be in my pack." Peter interrupted, eyes having yet to leave the road, hands now folded neatly together on his lap. "Yes, I wanted her close because she's like my family...She is family. I know how important family is...what little she has left matters to her. She's fiercely loyal."_

" _So you wanted to take advantage of her loyalty, inform her on the true culprit behind the fire-" Stiles started only to be cut off."_

" _THAT FIRE DECIMATED MY FAMILY!" Peter shouted with a snarl that bared his fangs, his red eyes burning into Stiles with a heavy gaze, the vein on his forehead throbbing with anger. "They took everything from me!"_

" _And you wanted to twist something so loving and loyal into something vengeful, hateful, and angry such as yourself." Stiles continued without flinching at Peter's anger, his fingers tightening over the steering wheel. " Once you told her about what Kate Argent did, you thought Nikita would avenge you and slaughter the Argents, didn't you? If not for you...for Cora."_

 _Peter remained silent, the red in his eyes fading back to the color of the night sky. Stiles didn't need an answer from him anyways. "As well as I knew her-" The Alpha began. " I never expected her to jump. My Kiki, she's even gutsier than I remember."_

" _Where is Nikita? What did you do to her?"_

" _Drive." Peter's simple request grating at Stiles, acting as if he didn't care._

Orange and pink ribbon clouds painted the morning sky, neither Jackson nor Stiles had a second to rest. Peter was gone, Peter was done, as was Kate Argent. The dangerous Alpha had been snuffed out and another -Derek Hale- came to take his place, but the most important question remained unanswered.

Where was Nikita Grace?

Stiles' Jeep pulled up to the school parking lot, Nikita's car abandoned and alone, where she had left it. A handful of cops were busy taping off the lacrosse field where Lydia had been attacked the other night. Both he and Jackson got out of the car, making their way to his father who was standing off to the side of the school, the men and women of his precinct surrounding him. Every officer turned to look at Jackson, the last person to see Nikita.

A woman Stiles had never seen before walked up to them. Right away the two boys felt intimidated by her presence even with her much shorter stature. With every stride she walked like she was meant for the catwalk, her own wind machine coming in with the breeze, blowing her jet colored silky tresses back. Her hands brushing away invisible crumbs that rested on her grey power suit.

"Detective Hirst." She said so nonchalantly, as if Stiles and Jackson were already a nuisance to her. Sure enough she pulled out her badge, flashing her credentials in their face. Not even a smile or a hint of kindness crossed her youthful freckle speckled face. Stiles stared at his own baffled expression in the reflection of her blue aviator sunglasses. He had only heard of her name, he had always expected Detective Hirst to be a male. He had heard of Hirst's tough as nails ways, and how interrogation with Hirst was one of the most daunting things a person could go through.

"My job here is to find _the girl_ -"

"Her name is Nikita Grace." Stiles mumbled to himself, going unnoticed amongst Jackson and Detective Hirst.

"-And bring her home safely." Hirst continued on. " So let's not fuck around here, boys. You two played an integral role in her disappearance."

 _Disappearance._

The word weighed so heavily on Stiles. It hadn't even been twenty four hours and they were already calling it a disappearance. He could feel a tremble starting at his fingertips, it would slowly radiate to take on his body. Peter had said Stiles would never see Nikita again, it could have meant many things if Stiles were in denial. But he knew, deep down he knew, Nikita was dead somewhere in the woods. Her body cold and lonely, only accompanied by the woodland creatures that were feasting on her, like they had with Laura Hale. Stiles quickly shut his eyes for a second trying to get the image of Laura out of his head, feeling the sting of tears. He had to gather his emotions quick, keep his mental state together, for these next few hours were deprimential.

Jackson shot Stiles a helpless look when Detective Hirst pulled out a notepad, ready to interrogate them then and there. Stiles' father wasn't making an effort to save them from this one, still busy instructing his crew; he must have given Hirst the okay on this.

"You were the last to see Nikita Grace." Hirst pointing the butt of her pen towards Jackson, who was starting to sweat at this point, shifting around in his place. The words 'guilty' and 'moron' should have been painted on his forehead, Jackson was such shit at keeping himself together.

"Why were you in the middle of the woods, why did you leave Nikita out there by herself."

"I-I" Jackson swallowing thickly. " I needed fresh air."

"So you went in the middle of the woods? Standing outside the door wasn't good enough for you?"

"No one can find me there." Jackson trying to keep up with her quick retort, blinking multiple times.

"Who were you hiding from?" Detective Hirst quick on the rebound, pen scrawling across the notepad.

"My girlfriend. She's clingy as hell."

"She's probably too good for you." Hirst's insult coming at Jackson so fast that it flew over his head, but Stiles caught it, the corner of his lips moving up an inch.

Detective Hirst ripped off her sunglasses, her dark obsidian almond shaped eyes falling upon Stiles. "And you were her date for the night?"

Stiles, unlike Jackson, knew how Detectives work. She wasn't looking for clues in their answers, she was looking for clues in how they spoke, their body language, their tone, their tell. Jackson was failing miserably, he would most likely end up in interrogation later strapped to a lie detector test. Luckily for Jackson, his father was a well known lawyer, so Jackson's spoiled ass was saved yet again.

"I was." Stiles answering carefully, crossing his arms over his chest.

He was growing anxious now, not because he was under the scope. Stiles wanted to get to Nikita, find her, hope there was a god and that she was alive. This session with Detective Hirst was wasting precious time they could have been utilizing. It seemed his father was on the same page as Stiles, calling the rest of them in.

Detective Hirst's eyes narrowed on Stiles as he walked past her to meet up with his father and the rest of the search party. Walter Grace was nowhere to be seen, Stiles suspected the poor man was at home, grieving.

Sheriff Stilinski brought the megaphone to his mouth."Alright everyone! Listen up! We're splitting into three groups. Those to the left of me take the West of the woods, those on my right take the East end! Detective Hirst, Stiles, Jackson, with me."

The groups went off, leaving the four of them, and a K-9 German Shepherd, the leash tight in Sheriff Stilinski's grip. "Jackson. Take us to where you saw Nikita last."

The four of them started their journey into the woods, Jackson and his father a few paces ahead. Detective Hirst silently rolled up her black latex gloves on, in hopes of finding evidence. She looked to Stiles again. "Where were you after the dance? Didn't you ever, at one point, stop and wonder where your date went off to?"

"Nikita and I had an awkward exchange. She left to clear her mind, I didn't want to overwhelm her by pursuing her." Stiles already had an arsenal of answers, Detective Hirst could barrage him with questions and she still wouldn't get a thing out of him.

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. "That's pretty respectful of you. You seem like a decent guy, Stiles. Being the Sheriff's son and all." Hirst walking like she owned the woods, her boots gathering wet leaves. "Being the Sheriff's son has it's privileges, like being exempt from cases like this, being overlooked as a suspect in practically everything. I guess I'll just have to ask your fellow students about that night. Find out if you did go looking for Nikita or not." Her blush colored lips curling into a smile.

Hirst's voice dropped low and she stopped walking for a moment."Being the Sheriff's son doesn't get you a free pass."

Like a hawk she watched for his reaction.

The blood in Stiles' veins turned to ice, he wanted to stop in his place, yet his feet carried on. If Detective Hirst were to ask the wrong person, they would tell her how Stiles was frantically searching for Nikita the night of the dance. It would paint him as guilty or a possible suspect in Nikita's case.

A howl sounded before them, Stiles jumped believing it was a werewolf, when in fact it was the search dog. He and Hirst sped up to meet up with his father and Jackson, the two of them bent over an object in the dirt.

"My flask!" Jackson, delighted to be reunited with his expensive flask.

"I will rip out your fingernails one by one if you so much as touch that piece of evidence." Hirst's voice dripping with disdain. Usually threatening a minor was frowned upon, but in such situations Sheriff Stilinski let it slide.

Jackson backed away not wanting to test her, or perhaps he adored his manicured nails a bit too much. Sheriff Stilinski passed the dog leash to Jackson with haste, his eyes on the small woman before him. Detective Hirst picked up the flask with her gloved hand, it rested delicately there as she examined it. They could see the pink lipstick that stained the rim of the silver flask, no doubt the same lipstick Nikita wore the other night. Hirst slid the flask into a clear baggie labeled evidence, it would later be looked at and re-examined for fingerprints.

Bruno, the search dog began to tug in the other direction, leading them a few paces down to a pair of nude high heels sitting in the dirt. Stiles recalled her wearing those shoes, he recalled how angelic she looked that night, the smile she wore when he saw her standing at the top of the stairs. Detective Hirst carefully put down a yellow marker before the shoes, meaning she would come back for the evidence later.

"The problem here." Sheriff Stilinski started. "Is that it rained for a quick moment last night. The rain could have washed away her foot prints."

"Her shoes point North, so North we go." Detective Hirst added.

Stiles was starting to feel sick now, she had taken off her shoes in attempt to outrun Peter. Stiles knew, Nikita was smart enough to do so. But there was no outrunning a werewolf, no human could accomplish such a feat. He tried hard not to imagine her screams, her struggles to get away from an Alpha Peter. He had told Stiles she had put up a fight, did she put up a fight until the very end? Did that mean Peter had killed her for resisting?

The search dog did his best to find Nikita's prints, but couldn't pinpoint a scent. They were deep in the woods now, the search was starting to feel fruitless. Jackson had been rather quiet the entire time, guilt was probably eating away at him now. Stiles nudged at him with his elbow, drawing Jackson out of silence.

"Do you think those stories of Cora Hale's ghost are true?" His voice hushed so that Hirst and Sheriff Stilinski couldn't hear.

"That's what you're thinking about right now? Really?" Stiles could have strangled Jackson right there, his anger starting to fight to the surface.

"Well if werewolves are real-"

"You're telling me you believe in Cora Hale's ghost and Suicide Hill?"

Stiles stopped in his tracks, the palm of his hand going to hold Jackson back from walking any further. "Suicide Hill." He repeated. For a moment Stiles' thoughts drifted back to the car ride he shared with Peter. Clearly remembering the Alpha muttering 'I never expected her to jump." The words hadn't registered in Stiles' mind at first, even though they were so damn clear.

"Do you have a compass?"

Jackson looked at him with narrowed eyes, his nose scrunched up. "Do I look like I would carry one with me? Use your phone, dipshit."

He didn't need a compass, his surroundings becoming familiar to him. Of course he knew about Suicide Hill, every teenager knew of Suicide Hill, their small town urban legend. Stiles always sought out adventures in the boring town of Beacon Hills, haunted places like the Hale Home and Suicide Hill were a hit especially around Halloween. He and Scott had dared each other on a few occasions to get close to the edge of the world as possible. Was it possible Nikita had taken her own life?

Stiles took off, leaving Jackson there. He passed by Detective Hirst and his father, leaving them shouting for him to come back. All of them broke into a run, following Stiles. Finally his path crossed with where Nikita had run, her footprints clear in the mud, yet no sign of Peter's. He must have ran beside her, not behind her, herding Nikita like she were a sheep, guiding her towards where he wanted to corner her. His speed picked up, going the fastest he had ever gone. Stiles wasn't a runner, his stance lazy, his feet tired, his lungs burning. He had to find Nikita, he had to find her now.

The clearing came to view now, Stiles about to meet the drop off. He doubled over as he reached near his destination, a few feet away from the edge of Suicide Hill. His frantic breathing and pounding heart broke the eerie silence of the woods. Tears started to form in the corner of Stiles' eyes, none of this felt real until now. He held his breath as he took a cautious step towards the edge of the hill, not ready to see her broken and cold body, not ready to accept the fact he had messed up.

"Stiles!" his father's shouts echoed throughout preserves as he and Detective Hirst ran to his side.

Stiles' heart lodged itself to the back of his throat as he stared wide eyed at the empty ground at the bottom of Suicide Hill.

…Peter had lied.

Nikita was nowhere to be found.

His eyes squeezed shut and when he opened them he hoped somehow she would appear before him. His father was hunched over, hands placed on his knees trying to catch his breath.

"Why did you run, Stiles?"

"I thought- I." Stiles attempting to get a word out.

"There's an indent of a human at the bottom of the hill." Detective Hirst said so casually while standing over the edge like a gargoyle perched above a city. Both Stiles and his father exchanged glances as Detective Hirst started to scale down the hill, wasting no time. Sheriff Stilinski never questioned the detective, or the possible danger she was putting herself in. Stiles scaled down carefully as well, hoping to find answers and clues to Nikita's whereabouts. After a few minutes all three of them were at the bottom of the hill.

Stiles spotted Nikita's corsage in the mud right away, the beautiful white petals of the orchid sullied by the black dirt. He made a move to run towards it, only to feel his father grab hold of his shoulder. Everything around them was evidence, or possible clues as to Nikita's whereabouts.

Detective Hirst was crouched on the ground next to the indent. Her dark eyes dancing between the ground and the edge of Suicide Hill above them. Her gloved finger dug into the soft dirt, only to wipe it on a napkin, leaving a smear of red and brown. Stiles could have fallen to his knees then, nausea grabbing a hold on him.

"She hit her tailbone first then her head." Hirst pointed out. "Which means she is most likely paralyzed, severely injured, possible brain injuries. Her blood is in the soil."

"It looks like she got up and walked away." Sheriff Stilinski pointing to what appeared to be footprints in the dirt. "How does a paralytic girl walk away?"

Hirst examined them for a moment, holding out her pen as a reference of measurement. "Size seven and a half. Left prints are deeper, meaning her right leg is damaged. She couldn't have gotten far."

They had found a sliver of hope, following the faint footprints through the woods in hopes of finding Nikita Grace. She had gone over rocks, logs, and even crossed a stream until she came to a wide open main road. Then her footprints vanished amongst the pavement.

The Sheriff ran his fingers through his sandy hair "She could be anywhere…injured and alone." Stiles could hear his father's voice crack, and it hurt him, it broke his heart. Detective Hirst rolled off her gloves to place her hand gingerly on Sheriff's Stilinski's back. His father dialed in on their radios alerting the others; leaving Stiles alone with his thoughts.

Nikita survived Suicide Hill, but now she was missing and severely injured. All because he had a moment of weakness and let Peter trump his intelligence. Nikita was his weakness, moments with her strayed him from clarity, and he loved that so much.

This…This was his entire fault.

Detective Hirst approached him, the slight breeze blowing at her raven strands. "Care to tell me how you knew where to find her?"

"I just...everyone knows about Suicide Hill." His tongue becoming clumsy, forming a sentence was becoming too great of a task. Stiles could feel sweat building between the thick hairs of his eyebrows.

The teenager looked to his hands as though the lines of his palms could lead him to Nikita. How he wished it were that easy, but nothing came to him with ease. Nothing about Nikita's disappearance made sense. Where did Peter's footprints go? Why was it just Nikita's? Had Peter taken the time to cover his tracks? Stiles' vision started to grow hazy now, his body feeling rather light. He had felt this way before in the past, this effect much too familiar. An early sign he was about to have a panic attack, he used to get them often after his mother passed away.

Hirst crossed her arms, watching him break apart before her with stunted breaths. Yet she made no effort in calming him, instead she fanned the flames. Stiles was in a vulnerable place now, making it easy for her to crack him open and find all the contents he kept inside his mind.

"I'm going to be frank here. I don't like you." She said while taking a step towards him, Stiles stumbling back. "And I don't trust you. You know more than you lead on."

Stiles shook his head, a bad idea, making him feel even more dizzy. "I don't know anything-I-I-"

His father finally finished dialing in his comrades and noticed his son struggling. Stiles was pale as a ghost now. Sheriff Stilinski ran to his son's side, placing a hand on his chest which was rising and falling much too rapidly.

"Stiles, just breathe." His father's voice guiding him to a place of comfort, but his vision began to tunnel.

"We'll find Nikita, I promise, I will do everything to find her and bring her home."

It felt like a hollow promise. Stiles fighting to find his center of gravity.

Everything faded to black.

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Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! For my Derek lovers, he will be back in the next chapter. Season 2 will pick up where this left off.

to clear any confusion: The Gloaming (season 1&2 of Tw) The Gloaming part 2 (Season 3a)


	15. Chapter 15

Oh my goodness! Thank you to all you lovely people who left me reviews last chapter. I appreciate it so much, you have no idea how much motivation you guys give me. I'm so glad you guys enjoyed Detective Hirst, she was in all my versions of this story, just under a different name, and not as bossy haha. This is another short chapter, and the next one will be SUPER short, but SUPER satisfying (I hope) Hope you guys enjoy this.

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His eyes fluttered open to the plain white ceiling above him. Stiles' eyes heavy, his vision still fogged with deep sleep. It was dark in his room, unclear if it was early morning or if it was nightfall. It was silent around him, only the soft buzz of his computer modem could be heard. He laid there motionless while remembering every painful second of searching for Nikita. She had vanished in thin air, the search dogs unable to follow her tracks. And now Detective Hirst had Stiles under her thumb, from now on his every encounter with her would be closely inspected.

Stiles felt a weight press down at the end of his bed, prompting him to sit up. It was Scott, a sad yet hopeful smile greeted Stiles; glad his friend was awake. "You've been knocked out for almost twelve hours."

At the information Stiles shot out of bed, heading straight to his closet, grabbing a jacket. Scott got up as well, wasting little time. Stiles intended on finding Nikita, he would find her, he would bring her home, he would make sure of it. But they were under utilizing their time, twelve hours had flown by, that meant Nikita had been missing for almost twenty-two hours now.

"We need to go now!" Stiles sliding on his shoes, too hasted to put on his socks.

Scott grabbed his own jacket from the back of his chair, pulling out a granola bar from the pocket and tossing it at Stiles. "You need to eat, and we need to quickly stop at the hospital first, and check on Lydia."

Having been caught in the state of perpetual chaos and confusion Stiles had forgotten about Lydia Martin for a minute. There was a high possibility she was a werewolf now, the thought hadn't even dawned on Stiles until now. Lydia Martin had been Peter's plan B, she was terrifyingly smart and charming, making a strong Beta at his side.

"Alright." Stiles agreed. "Let's make this quick."

* * *

-Walter's POV-

He ran to the bathroom in time to throw up in a stall. Walter's fingers wrapped around the cold dirty porcelain as he emptied the contents in his stomach of what little food he could consume. Clear stomach acid burned his throat raw on its way out. His eyes stinging with tears, rolling over his mottled red face. It had been almost twenty four hours since Nikita's disappearance, and there was still no clue to her whereabouts. The Sheriff had done a decent job with keeping the press out, the town of Beacon Hills had no clue about Nikita's disappearance.

He could hear Brody Jones pacing right outside his bathroom stall. Brody was a true friend, a loyal one at that. His oldest son -Alex- moved back home last night after being away for five years, he had yet to see his son or speak to him. Brody refused to leave Walter's side, except for when he found himself trying to stabilize Lydia Martin. Brody, Melissa, and even the police tried to convince Walter to go home and rest, in case his daughter showed up. But he knew she wouldn't show up at home. From what he had gathered Nikita was left severely injured, if she were to show up anywhere it would be at the hospital, and Walter intended to be here for that.

All energy seemed to deplete of his body. Walter slumped to the tiled floor, leaning his back against the stall door, completely weak and sleep deprived. "Brody, go home, please go see your son…Spend time with your family. Hold them close." Walter had wished he had done so with what little time he had spent with his daughter.

Brody's pacing stopped as he spoke up "I'm not leaving you Walt, you need me, so does Lydia. Believe me, my son will understand."

There was no winning with Brody, the man was as stubborn as a mule. "How about this? You go home and see your son, and I promise to take a nap in the resting room. Lydia is already carefully monitored."

A moment of silence fell between the two of them. He could picture the fine lines of Brody's forehead deepening with thought, dark brown eyes falling to the floor. "fine, I'll go see him for a short while and come back within in the hour. In the meantime, you get some rest."

"I'll try."

And with that Brody walked out of the hospital bathroom. After some time Walter got up on shaky legs and walked out of the stall. Cold water ran past his lips as he washed his mouth out with the tap, the taste of hard water metallic and bitter on his tongue. Two baggy bloodshot eyes looked right back at him in the mirror, the eyes of a parent who failed their child. The eyes belonging to the man who let the wishes of his dead Ex rot.

Walter stared back at his reflection, belittling and tearing himself in his mind, disgusted with what he saw. He could perform open heart surgery, but he couldn't figure out who the Alpha was? Peter Hale who had been under his nose the entire time. Walter wanted nothing more than to love and protect Nikita, in doing so he had taken her away from her home, taken her away from her family, only to lead her straight to her own undoing. He stood there in silence for minutes, the only sound was the sound of an irritating leaky faucet and his sniffles. That's when he caught the dark figure in the corner of his eyes, Walter turned around and grabbed the figure by the collar of their shirt and pushed them against the wall.

Derek Hale.

Walter's teeth gritted tightly together at the sight of Derek. Absolute uncontrollable anger swam freely to the surface of his guise, Walter's grip tightening on the collar of the Werewolf's shirt.

"How could you let this happen! How could you be so stupid!" Walter projecting his own anger and fears unfairly onto Derek, he had been just as oblivious as Derek had been.

Sharp words were like a loaded gun, once the bullet left the chamber there was no taking it back. They had pierced through Derek much the same. But any words thrown onto Derek were no worse than the cruel words he had hurt himself with. Derek was wallowing in an ocean of guilt, nothing could relieve him of his last time Walter had seen Derek was weeks ago, when he asked the young wolf to distance himself from Nikita, keep her blind from the supernatural. He knew the Werewolf kept good on his promise, Derek was an honorable young man.

"I didn't think this would happen." Derek started, the familiar glint of regret rested behind his pale green eyes, they shut for a moment, perhaps too ashamed to even look at the man he grew up with. "He wanted to give her the bite. Peter wanted Nikita by his side."

Walter let go of Derek, overcome by emotion, so overcome he was starting to feel ill again. He was drained of energy, physically, mentally. The werewolf cemented his suspicions, confirmed what he feared the most. Peter Hale had turned his back to him.

Derek stayed close to the wall, his jaw twitching, nostrils flared. "He wanted to turn her into a weapon against the Argents. She was already athletic, fast. If he had turned her all her skills would have heightened. It would have been easy for Peter to manipulate her, Betas often loyal to their Alphas."

"This is how Peter repaid me." Walter grimaced, turning his back from Derek, his ever shaking hands coming to rest behind his neck. "By tearing away my baby girl."

"I'm...I'm so sorry. I never meant to let you down." The shakiness in Derek's voice somehow churned deeply at Walter's stomach. He knew the sincerity, but Derek's apologies wouldn't bring his daughter back. "I didn't mean for this to happen to her-"

"I don't want to hear anymore!" Walter interrupted sharply, snapping at Derek. " Go, get out of here! Go find her!"

Derek muttered another sorry before departing from Walter. The heartbroken father buried his face in his hands. His anger and fears unfairly and aggressively projected on Derek. Had it been wrong to push Derek out of his life? Out of his daughter's life? It wasn't fair for Nikita, he knew. It wasn't fair for Derek either. Could Derek have possibly protected Nikita if he were close to her like they once were? Guilt was weighing heavily on him, like an anvil sitting directly on his heart. Walter turned to look over his shoulder in hopes of giving Derek an apology, but he was no longer there.

* * *

-Stiles' POV-

With narrow suspicious eyes Stiles peered down the hospital corridor to see busy nurses passing by. They never seemed to leave Lydia's door or wander too far from it.

"Coast is clear, Wolfy."

Scott darted past him and opened the door to Lydia's room, sneaking quietly inside; while Stiles nearly tripped over his shoes -which still weren't on properly- They were both in her hospital room, completely unnoticed amongst the hospital staff. The two of them had little time to do what they needed, knowing a nurse would check up on Lydia every twenty minutes or crawled across the floor like a glorified James Bond to the foot of her bed. Both boys slowly got up from the floor and peered down at a sleeping Lydia with curious eyes.

Stiles let out a sigh "Wow, she's actually not that bad when she's sleeping...Kinda peaceful."

Scott rolled his eyes at his friend, examining Lydia.

The horrid memories of Peter attacking Lydia came back to Stiles with a violent rush of guilt. He remembered it perfectly, how the field lights blinded him, Lydia on her stomach crying out his name, Peter dragging her through the mud with his vicious claws. Scott noticed how unnerved Stiles looked, reliving the night. Stiles didn't want to say he ran to the wrong girl, when in fact he was looking for Nikita; Lydia had possibly lucked out with Stiles finding her.

"Remove the bandage." Scott's voice in a hushed whisper.

Stiles' eyes landed on his friend who stood on the other side of the hospital bed she was resting in. He shook his head "I'm not touching that bloody thing."

Scott let out a sigh, apprehensively the tips of his fingers worked to lift the bandages that covered the bite. The two boys drew in a deep staggered breath, awaiting the moment of dread. Stiles watched as his friend's dark brows knitted together with concern upon inspecting Lydia, a silence fell heavily between them, only the sound of the steady heart monitor.

"What is it?" Stiles dying with anticipation.

"Her bite never healed. It's still fresh."

The two of them let out a long sigh of relief, Lydia had been spared a brutal turning, dodged the same bullet that marked Scott McCall. She would not be turned, Lydia wouldn't be howling at a full moon any time soon. Their gazes met, both Stiles and Scott nodding, for it was time for their next mission.

Finding Nikita Grace.

The two of them snuck out of the hospital room, and found their way to the lobby where Alison awaited them. In her hands rested a beige knitted scarf, Stiles had seen that scarf before. He noticed Alison looked just as weary as he did, she too carried a guilt much too heavy to be burdened with. It was during the night of Winter formal when Allison, along with Chris Argent had learned of Kate Argent's true crimes. It was Kate and her men who were responsible of the destruction and decimation of the Hale family. It was known that Nikita was close to the Hale's once, Allison feeling responsible that her aunt destroyed Nikita's second family; and now Nikita was missing.

"I can't believe this is happening" Allison's voice soft, her dark eyes peered down the lobby where Lydia was being held in recovery.

"None of us could have predicted this." Stiles felt like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone.

Scott grabbed Nikita's scarf out of Allison's hands, bringing it up to his nose. Scott let the sweet scent of fresh jasmine perfume entangle itself in his supernatural senses. His eyes opened with a flash of brilliant gold upon locking onto her scent. "Alright, let's do this."

* * *

Derek's POV

Derek walked beneath the ink black sky, his leather boots crunching on bits of loose gravel.

The people of Beacon Hills tend to keep in their homes once the sun was down, especially with the city wide curfew. Once it was nine everyone headed inside and stayed there. He was alone, most often if not. Loneliness was once a comfort to him, he remembered as a teenager when he would lock himself in his room ,away from his family. Lock Cora out when she wanted to play, refuse to eat dinner downstairs with his family. He had taken them for granted all those many years ago, how he wished he could have gone back and changed their outcome. He was so foolish then, Derek feared not much had changed.

He had locked Nikita out, and now she was missing.

There was still time to set things right, there was the smallest sliver of hope to hold onto, and Derek wasn't about to let it go. All evidence pointed to Nikita Grace still being alive, she was just missing. He rounded a corner on the street to come up to the black iron cemetery gates. Twisted vines grew about it, the gates open and welcoming those inside. An odd sort of comfort.

Derek was an Alpha now, and an Alpha needed a loyal pack. More specifically, this Alpha needed a pack to help him seek out Nikita Grace and bring her home safely.

His shoes treaded lightly over the slick dewy grass, the soft earth absorbed any sound coming underfoot. Derek stuck to the shadows, allowing the blackness to conceal him into the night. The predator was on the prowl, having studied his prey since this morning. Carefully he hid behind the great cement wings of a weeping angel statue to peer upon what he sought after. HIs eyes burned an Alpha red seeing his first choice of a Beta. A boy the same age as Nikita, perhaps they shared classes together.

An easy, feeble target who couldn't even put up a fight.

Isaac Lahey.

* * *

Scott's POV

The cold night air washed over the Beta's face while he held his nose up to the sky, dark hair blowing in the wind. The scent of Beacon Hills as a city was overwhelming with its woodsy aromas and rough industrial stenches. So much for him to take in, he just needed to lock onto that sweet jasmine Sheriff had used a search dog in order to find Nikita, but no one had thought of using a werewolf. He was confident in himself, his senses sharper than any creature known to man.

Stiles was driving as fast as ever, listening to Scott shout out directions as they came to him. Allison quietly seated in the back with a map of Beacon Hills open on her phone, tracking their every move. The three of them dead set on their mission.

The disappearance of Nikita had weighed heavily on Scott. He couldn't help but to feel partially responsible. Although he and Nikita had yet to see eye to eye -thanks to his antics during the full moon- he felt for her. She was the daughter of Walter Grace, Walter who was currently in a serious relationship with his mother, Melissa. Scott was trying to hold it together for the sake of Stiles, every now and then devastation would take a hold of him, and he just wanted to break down. Nikita was injured and missing, and there was a chance of Scott stopping this from happening. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Peter Hale had betrayed Nikita, had betrayed Walter even. Scott had heard stories of Peter Hale, and the hours of surgery he went under just to be able to breathe again...all those hours of dedication Walter had spent on him-

"Okay stop here!" Scott shouted as soon as he picked up on the familiar scent. Stiles pressing on the brakes abruptly. The scent of burning rubber now entangled with the floral notes.

They were on a main road now, from Scott's understanding this was the same exact spot where Stiles had his panic attack when they had lost Nikita's foot prints. The three of them hopped out of the car, Stiles leaving his emergency lights on in case of a car approaching. The breeze seemed to play with Nikita's scent, making it bounce around like a rubber ball. Where had Nikita possibly gone off to?

Scott sniffed at the air, desperate to find a lead again. "She went up the road."

Without warning Scott broke into a run before losing her scent again, both Allison and Stiles struggled to keep up with the Beta, his speed no match for his human friends. Scott ran into a different set of preserves, the north end, hopping over rocks and brambles following the scent. He came to a halt when he reached a creek, the vivid moonlight reflected perfectly in the clear water. Stiles and Allison finally caught up to him, both completely breathless.

Scott's brows furrowed and his nose scrunched, looking for her scent again. He turned east and sniffed the air, he turned west and sniffing his surroundings once more. Stiles' face distorted in confusion as he lifted his arm and smelled his arm pit. Hoping his scent wasn't adding to his friend's confusion. Allison's brow arched as she watched Stiles sniff himself and at the air, as though he could pick up on Nikita's scent like he were a werewolf. The two of them remained wordless, allowing Scott all the focus he needed.

He was on the move again.

Scott ran through the woods, legs pumping faster than ever. He had a definitive lock on her scent, and it seemed to be stronger than before. A spark of hope ignited in him, powering him through the woods. Her scent like a finger beckoning at him. He could see it in his mind, Nikita sitting alone on a rock, waiting to be found, waiting to be rescued. Scott's could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His pacing, however, slowed as he reached the main road, Stiles' jeep parked right where they left it. Scott was completely stupefied, confusion hitting him like a brick to the face. Her scent lead him here.

Stiles and Allison caught up, the two of them just as miffed.

"I don't...I don't understand…" Stiles' voice coming from behind him, soft and defeated. They had all felt so certain and confident for a moment; and now it laid shattered at their feet.

Finally Scott spoke up, clearing his throat. "Her scent it everywhere. It's all over the place. She lead us back here."

"That's because she backtracked." Allison tucking a dark stray hair behind her ear. "She knows what she's doing, she literally wanted us to walk in circles."

Stiles buried his face in his hands as Allison rubbed his back for comfort. "Why." Stiles started, words muffled in his hands. "Why would she do that?"

Scott's eyes landed on the preserves. The trees and their jagged little fingers pointed in all directions. People didn't seem to understand how vast the woods really were, most of it still undiscovered by Scott himself.

"Because, Nikita doesn't want to be found."

* * *

Hope you guys enjoyed reading this, for the new readers I would love to know your theories. My loyal readers, you guys have the satisfaction of knowing.

My writing will be slowing down a bit, this month and next month are going to be SO BUSY for me. Luckily next chapter is short, but the one after will be pretty long. But don't worry about me stopping this story, we haven't even begun with the angst!


	16. Chapter 16

Thank you to those of you who were kind enough to leave me a review last chapter! You are all so amazing, and give me the incentive to keep going. Thank you to my silent readers, I hope one day you will come out of hiding and share your thoughts with me, and thank you to my new followers!

This is a super short chapter, but no worries, the next one will be much longer!

* * *

 _It felt like she had opened her eyes after a hundred years of slumber._

 _She had blinked and the universe went on without her._

 _It hurt._

 _Everything little molecule in her body hurt. Her body ached so violently she swore her bones could turn to dust and wither into the night. The back of her head was the epicenter of her hurt, the stinging sensation - like a drill to the skull- she felt was enough to bring tears to her eyes . Her stifled breath fogged in the night sky, the gentle wet mist kissed at her cheeks. She pursed her blood crusted lips together, feeling the grains of dirt crunch between her teeth. It was the combination of blood and earth that made her feel so queasy. The bitter cold had constricted around her to the point where her muscles were much too stiff to quiver, or move for that matter…_

 _Where was she? Nikita was unfamiliar with what she saw._

 _Wiry black trees arched in front of her, beams of silver moonlight penetrated through the thick foliage, creating an ominous path to follow. Her toes instinctively dug into the soil, like she had done many times before. The Beacon Hills preserve floors were always covered with pine needles that would prick the bottom of her feet, but the earth here was soft, covered with oak leaves. It even smelled different here too, the deep rich evergreens replaced by new heady aromas._

 _The hairs on the back of her neck stood on ends when she felt a presence move behind her._

 _Nikita slowly turned her head around in hopes of stealing a glance._

 _"Don't even think about it."The voice warned._

 _Quickly she turned her head back, not taking any chances. It was a man's voice, deep and gruff, one she had never heard before. Or perhaps she had, but couldn't recall with her foggy thoughts. Her head was pounding to the same rhythm of her heart beat. Her heart like the fluttering wings of a humming bird. Nikita was frightened, freezing, wanting nothing more than to find her way home. If she weren't in pain she would have assumed this was nothing more than a surreal nightmare._

 _Nikita released a sharp gasp at the feel of the stranger's cold touch. His fingers gently brushed down the side of her arm, shoving his hand into hers for a moment. Nikita peered down to see her fist filled with coins he supplied, confused as to what this could all possibly mean._

 _"Walk." The voice said, lacking any sort of patience. Nikita much too frightened to turn around and look upon his face._

 _A sickening shiver bolted through her body. "Wh-Where?" She managed to croak out, her throat feeling dry and scratchy._

 _"Right foot, left foot." Was all he said, reminding her the simple mechanics of walking._

 _With that he gave her a gentle shove, forcing her to use her feet. Her every movement clumsy and heavy, it was as though she were walking for the first time. She was a newborn taking her first steps. Nikita winced in pain, her feet carrying her aching body towards her journey into uncertainty and darkness, with nothing but a fist full of coins._

* * *

 _Yooooo so this is where it all starts! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, or the last few chapters!_

 _-For those of you who have already read this story, do your best not to leave spoilers in the reviews please and thank you :]_


	17. Chapter 17

Hello everyone! Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter. It means so much to me, especially given the fact that it was a super short teaser of a chapter. I'm sad to say this one is on the short side as well, under 4,000 words. But I hope the quality comes on top over quantity. Shoutout to you lovely reviewers, you guys are so freakin amazing, and constantly give me the motivation to go. You guys are my cup of coffee and keep me going.

Please don't forget, anything in italics is a flashback, much like the first half of this chapter.

I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

 _He could never forget Peter's screams of agony, the sickening sight of the flesh that had melted off the side of his face, dripping like a candle held to the flame. The repugnant scent of him making Walter sick to his stomach._

 _It took several attempts of resuscitation, thirty-seven hours of constant care, and four rounds of intensive surgery just to keep Peter Hale breathing. Walter had worked tirelessly and dutifully to save Peter's life. He had spent every second beside his hospital bed or standing guard in front of Peter's hospital room, making sure the hunters didn't come back to finish what they had started._

 _Walter was having a normal day at the hospital before Peter had been rushed in. He had no clue about the house fire, absolutely no idea about the casualties. Those he had thought as his second family had perished. It was during those thirty-seven hours he found out the fate of his best friend and his family. Walter didn't have time to grieve, he could only focus on saving Peter. He had pressed his broken heart into a box and hid it deep, emotions would only get in the way of his intellect, he needed every bit of it to save Peter._

 _He had successfully stabilized Peter, even so, Peter would never live a normal life again. Walter was by no means friends with Peter, he always got mischievous vibes from the young werewolf and tended to keep far from him. But for the love he bore the Hale family, he would take care of Peter, he would do everything in his power to assist him into a full recovery._

 _His feet were dragging on the floor, Walter completely spent of his energy. He allowed himself a few hours away from the hospital to go home, where he could find comfort and love with his wife and daughter before making his return. They must have been mourning as well, Sarah had grown so close to Talia throughout the years, Nikita and Cora were an inseparable duo; convinced they were actual sisters. How was he supposed to explain to his ten year old daughter what had happened?_

 _Nikita had grown up with the Hale family, every holiday, every birthday had been spent with them. It was Talia Hale who decided it was best for Nikita not to be exposed to the supernatural, a child knowing of another world was too big of a risk, especially when hunters roamed freely in Beacon Hills. There had been many close calls in Nikita's life, Cora slipping up here and there, it took but a simple fix of Talia's claws to the back of his daughter's neck; erasing any memory of discovering werewolves. The more these occurrences took place, the more bitter Sarah grew towards Talia's ways. Sarah didn't take too kindly to her baby's mind being tampered with._

 _The key jiggled in the lock, and Walter opened the front door to his home. Relief washed over him right away, he needed time to grieve, he needed time to rest. Instead he was greeted by four large packed suitcases in the foyer, an unexpected sight. Sarah descended the stairs with such an urgency that it put Walter in a state of unease right away. In her hand was an empty duffel bag, her dark mocha eyes landed on him, lacking their usual flicker of affection._

" _You can put the important papers and documents here."_

 _Her lack of empathy had left Walter feeling bewildered, he had hoped to seek salvation in her arms, instead he was greeted with discontent. Her usual loving and motherly demeanor was swapped out for something of panic, an ugly twisted fear that had been festered like a rotted wound. Her dark tresses had been pulled back in a sloppy pony rather than the usual loose curls she wore down to her waist. Sarah had a natural untouched beauty to her, her skin always glowing without imperfection, her dimpled plump cheeks made everyone around her illuminate. She didn't look like herself, her luster gone, heavy bags resting beneath her eyes gave evidence to her lack of sleep._

 _He knew she was on edge._

" _What's going on?" Walter managed to speak out, although the answer was right before him in the packed bags._

" _We're leaving Beacon Hills, we're leaving this god forsaken town."_

 _Normally Walter would have seen something like this coming, however his mind was much too numb to process what had happened since the past twenty-four hours. His feet followed her into his office room, making sure to close the door behind him while Sarah mindlessly shoved his papers and mail into the duffel. Walter understood her fear, he felt it himself. How could he not? His best friend along with his family were put to death, no doubt it wasn't an accident. Both he and Sarah knew right away it was arson, it was unmistakingly the work of a hunter...an Argent to be exact._

" _We're going to my Sister's in Los Angeles." Sarah's voice getting louder over the sound of shuffling papers, strands of her stringy chestnut hair framing her tired face. "And that's where we'll stay. Permanently."_

" _I-I can't-" Walter started only to be cut off by her._

" _-We're taking our baby girl away from here."_

 _She was on the other side of the cherry oak desk now emptying all the drawers in her frantic state of distress. Nothing could calm her down, more importantly, nothing could change the opinion of a hard headed woman._

" _Sarah." His voice fell deaf upon her ears._

 _All her focus in sweeping up her family and leaving town as soon as she could. Paranoia was a sinister parasite which dug it's little tendrils into one's mental self, the fear poisoning rationality. Sarah had succumb to the fear, she was drowning in the deep dark waters of uncertainty, blindly refusing Walter's life line. And he was trying so desperately to make her see._

" _Sarah!" This time his voice louder, demanding._

 _She turned suddenly, with a bewildered look of a cornered animal._

 _He had her attention now._

 _Walter walked up to her, gently taking the duffle bag out of her hands, careful not to provoke her. She didn't want to let go, but after a few tugs her fingers released reluctantly. He set the bag on the leather computer chair, his hand coming to brush the dark strand of hair behind her ear. The human touch proved to be the easiest and most effective way of connecting to another person. He needed her to listen to his every word, because what he was about to say wouldn't settle well with her._

" _Sarah...We can't leave."_

 _Skipping out of Beacon Hills sounded like a dream with everything that had just occurred. Of course Walter wanted to leave, he wanted nothing more than to flee with his family. Walter held a prominent position at the hospital, he couldn't just up and leave, relocate. It would take him several months possibly even years for his job to place him at another hospital. Leaving wasn't so simple._

 _Sarah's hand came to smack away his own, he had expected that much. "My life- our life is deeply rooted in Beacon Hills. We can't just leave. The hospital won't relocate me, and Peter needs us, he has no one."_

" _I don't care for Peter!" Sarah snatched the duffel back, her chin jutting out to him with defiance. "I don't give two shits for him, for the Hales, for this town, or the supernatural world."_

 _Walter's brows raised to his hairline. Sarah was speaking out of dismay, truly she didn't mean all of that. She had known the Hale's since before their marriage, and had known of their secret for decades._

 _His fingers raked painfully over the top of his scalp and through his midnight hair. "I know you're afraid-"_

 _Sarah shoved the duffel into Walter's arms which he dropped to his feet. She already felt defeated in attempting to make Walter leave."I'm done!" Sarah's hands flying in the air with surrender. "I'm leaving town, and I'm taking Nikita with me!"_

 _Walter could feel panic rising to the surface of his calm demeanor, his second family was gone, burnt to ashes; and now Sarah wanted to leave with his only child. Nikita being Walter's little princess, she was his entire world. Nothing felt better than coming home to her dimpled smile, how it always melted away his worries. She was his heart, and he couldn't bare her being torn away from him._

 _His hand shot out to wrap firmly around her wrist in hopes of stopping her. It must have been out of instinct or fear of physically losing his family, losing everyone he loved in the span of a few days. In a blink she had grabbed the the letter opener off his desk and held it to his throat, a split reaction to his hostility. Walter swallowed hard feeling the cold metal against the delicate skin of his throat. By the feral look in her deep brown eyes she meant to carve open his adam's apple if he dared to make another move. He had never seen his wife like this before, it terrified him how far she had fallen. Sarah was a brazen lioness desperate to protect her young. And no man could ever stop her._

 _That's what it simply came down to. Sarah only wanted to protect her daughter. And Walter was in the way of that._

 _He could feel the tremor in her hands by the way the letter opener shook against his throat. Her tear glazed eyes remained on him, neither of them dared to speak. The slight squeak of a door hinge caught his attention. Walter turned his head to the sound, absentminded to how the metal felt scraping against his stubble. His heart broke seeing his daughter peering through the crack of the door, her big doe eyes filled with tears, her freckled face filled with worry. Nikita didn't understand what was happening, she had yet to comprehend the death of her friend, she had never seen her parents argue before. And here was her mother holding a sharp object to her father's throat._

 _Nikita's hand tightened around the door handle, just a sliver of her face visible between the door now; Sarah had yet to notice her._

" _You either come to Los Angeles with Nikita and I. Or I can send you the divorce papers in the mail." Sarah spoke with shaky words, afraid of what he might choose._

 _Walter's attention returned to his wife. She had essentially put him between a rock and a hard place with her now or never options. His life had always been a balance of work and family, he lived to save others and he lived to embrace his family. The hospital would never let him leave, and Peter needed Walter now more than ever. Sarah already knew the answer, briny tears rolling down her cheeks. She squeezed shut her eyes for a moment, her thick brows coming to meet together. He could never stand in the way of his daughter's well being, what if it had been their house that was set aflame? What if they were deemed guilty by association? The three of them could be wearing targets on their backs without knowing it._

 _He would rather die a thousand deaths than bring harm to his baby girl._

" _I'll take the divorce papers."_

 _Five of the heaviest words that had ever rolled off his tongue, the words themself even tasted like bile._

 _He watched his choice tear through his wife, her eyes opening once more, his own tear filled much like hers. The letter opener fell from her fingers, a metallic clunk was heard as it hit the wooden floor. His gaze returned to the door to see it was shut. In his heart he knew Nikita had heard the exchange, she had heard her own father choose a divorce rather than living a life with her._

* * *

\- Stiles' POV-

Red lines of yarn stretched out like thin crooked fingers sweeping over a large map of Beacon Hills. Stiles was relentless as he racked his brain, trying to figure out Nikita's whereabouts. Sure, he didn't have super sensitive hearing or any other handy amplified senses, but he could still help with the power of deduction.

His room was a mess, it had been for days with piles of unwashed clothes, water cups, and homework scattered about. There was no time to focus on errands or cleanliness when Nikita was out there, somewhere.

The first push pin was pressed into Suicide Hill, the impact zone, where she fell. From there the yarn went all the way to the creek and back to the main road where Scott lost her scent. Then the yarn fanned out like a web of crimson. There were three cities surrounding Beacon Hills: Crystal Falls, a town of rich Yuppies, Black Star Canyon; a haunted town filled with urban myths, and folks polishing their guns on their porches, or Brookfield, a young college town. How could no one have spotted Nikita? How could nobody have been alarmed by an injured girl in a dirty formal dress? Stiles narrowed his eyes as his fingers traveled along the red fiber imagining Nikita's journey through Beacon Hills. A thought dawned on him; she could still be in Beacon Hills. It was possible Nikita had never left, for she would stick out like a sore thumb if she attempted to get anywhere by foot. Was it possible Nikita was hiding out? Was someone else hiding her? Beacon Hills had plenty of abandoned warehouses, malls, even subways.

Stiles ran to his computer, getting ready to look up all of the abandoned places found in Beacon Hills. Stiles could cultivate a list, where he and Scott could go check out.

Just then the front door slammed open, Stiles looked to the clock ticking above his desk, it was well after two a.m. Meaning all the bars were now closed, also meaning his father was home. ..

Stiles' body stiffened, he listened to sloppy footsteps stumble towards the kitchen downstairs. Just hearing his father stumble in created a knot in the pit of Stiles' stomach. His father hadn't had a drop of liquor in years, those were much darker days,but with Nikita missing and the Chief of Police hounding his every waking second it was hard not to fall back into old ways. Stiles didn't blame him, he just wished it never came down to this.

Five nights.

Five nights had passed since Formal and Nikita was still not found. People were still coming up short with answers, even Detective Hirst seemed stumped on this one.

It was his father's job to command his team of cops and detectives, leading them into the search for Nikita. It was also his job to keep the press away as best he could. Beacon Hills being a small town, it was easy for rumors to spread like vicious wildfire. Naturally Nikita's name was on the tip of every person's tongue. The people had found out about her, her face making it on the front page of the local newspaper. The Citizens of Beacon Hills were starting to doubt the Police Department and those serving under it. Sheriff Stilinski's every move was put under a microscope, all eyes watching him deteriorate, quick to judge him and his actions.

Coming home drunk wasn't a good look for him.

Stiles made his way downstairs to see his father's face buried in piles of paperwork. Stiles didn't bother asking his father how he got home, it was best for him to remain ignorant on the situation. Instead Stiles walked himself over to the fridge, making his father a sandwich, the bread would help with soaking up the alcohol. He needed his father sober, he needed his father sharp. Stiles looked over his shoulder to where his father was sitting at the dinner table. It broke his heart seeing his father like this, so crushed and overcome by guilt. The stench of whiskey filled the kitchen, his father had been hitting the harder stuff.

He sat with his father whose face was buried in his hands, the paper work had been shoved off the table, scattered across the floor. Stiles pushed the sandwich towards his dad. The Sheriff's head emerged, and he gladly took the sandwich. The two of them sat in each other's silence, his father enjoying his late night meal.

Stiles had always grown up seeing his father as his hero, his Michael Keaton's version of Batman. But looking at him now he looked so tired, so old. These five days had added ten years on him, the lines that etched his face had deepened, eyes red rimmed and puffy.

"It just doesn't make sense." His father muttered in an unsteady voice as he ran his fingers through his sandy hair "She's here one day, gone the next….how is it even possible?" His hands reaching for the whiskey table sitting on the table, only for Stiles to gently push it aside, out of his father's reach.

"You should go to bed."

"I should have found Nikita by now." His father corrected.

To his surprise his father listened and got up, a little too fast as he stumbled backwards. Stiles' hand shout out to grab his arm, balancing his father. The two of them made it up the stairs with difficulty, Sheriff Stilinski putting all of his weight on him, swaying side to side with half shut eyes. He stopped for a moment on their way up the stairs to place his fingers on a photo of Claudia nailed to the wall, a lopsided dreamy smile forming on his lips.

"Stiles….I just want you to know. I just.."

Immediately he felt an emotional moment coming judging by the warm swell he felt in his chest. Stiles couldn't handle a moment like this, not right now, not without breaking down in front of his father. These past few days had chipped away at him, he was feeling so mentally worn out. Stiles needed to be strong for the both of them, he needed to be strong for Nikita.

His father's fingers finally left Claudia's photo to finish their journey up the stairs."This Nikita case...I want you to know how proud I am of you, I don't say it as often as I should. Someone's child is out- is out there. And I can't imagine what I would do if this ever happened to you."

A lump started to build in the back of his throat, his eyes stinging with tears. Stiles bit his bottom lip trying his best to keep his emotions in check as he finally got his father into bed after taking off his shoes, and tucked him in, uniform and all. His soul cringed at the sight of his father. He had seen his father at rock bottom before, and it terrified him.

"You'll make an amazing detective someday." His father's voice drifting off, finally surrendering to sleep.

Wordlessly Stiles turned off the lights and headed out the room, the walk back to his room felt like it took forever. The back of his sleeve came to wipe away a tear that had managed to escape. He had to stay level headed and keep his wits about him. He would allow himself to rest, but as soon as he woke up, it would be back to solving Nikita's whereabouts.

Stiles collapsed face first onto his bed and let out a long exhausted groan into his pillow before rolling onto his back. He hadn't slept since she disappeared, his eyes stinging and irritated. He hoped to dream of her, hold her, kiss her again, smell her beautiful jasmine perfume. Just know she was home and safe. The hollow cavity in his chest kept growing in size, the idea of her being lost, hurt, and terrified tore him to pieces.

He rubbed at his eyes, red sparkling dots dancing across his vision in the darkness. Sleep was beckoning to him, his eyes growing heavier and heavier by the second, until he finally gave in.

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Bzzzz…

Bzzzz….

Bzzzz…

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Stiles shot up from the bed at the sound of his cell phone vibrating. His room was so messy he had absolutely no idea where it could possibly be. He groggily followed the annoying sound in the dark, bumping into his computer chair, and cursing under his breath. Finally the sound lead him to a staggering pile of his dirty laundry. With a groan and half lidded eyes he began to dig through the heap of clothes, throwing dirty laundry behind his shoulder. He pressed the phone to his cheek without even checking the caller I.D to hear absolute silence.

"Scott it's four A.M. I swear if this is about Allison I will skin you alive and make myself a parka." His eyes having yet to open.

The voice on the other end finally answered "S-Stiles? "Stiles. Is that you?"

Stiles' eyes shot wide open, his breath escaping him in a loud gasp. The coldest chill trickled down his back to release goosebumps to the surface of his skin. A female was sobbing on

the other end, this must have been a trick, this must have been a dream.

"...Nikita?"

"Stiles..I-I'm s-so cold."

* * *

Please let me know what you thought of the chapter, or yell at me through reviews ;)


	18. Chapter 18

Hello everyone!

It's been over a month since I last updated! Sorry I had a sort of summer vacation and things got super busy. Thank you for being so patient especially since I left you guys with a teaser of a chapter. I'm sorry to say this is another short chapter too, hopefully more satisfying than the last. I just love leaving you guys all jittery and wondering.

BIG SHOUTOUT to those of you who are kind and loving enough to leave me reviews. You have no idea how helpful your reviews and encouragement are: January Lily, It Belongs In a Museum, Princessdarkness12, Mortega22, Beccasco, Wildrecklessyouthinme, Ferallahey, TW-addict, Peachy48, Brooklynknight (dude thank you so much), Janedoee7, Miss Fortunate, Kisaageckos, Prettypink01!

-Please note: There is literally no way i'm following the TW timeline, like ever. So don't worry about things happening when they shouldn't.

ALSO TEEN WOLF IS BACK TONIGHT! Let's hope this season attempts at making sense.

* * *

"Nikita! Nikita what do you see!?"

Stiles' voice desperate and loud over the speaker of his phone. He had rushed out of the house without a second thought upon the sound of her weak voice, his Jeep zipping through the dark and windy roads. Nothing could slow him down, not even the torrential downpour Beacon Hills had been plagued with on this particular night. Just knowing she was out there in such extreme conditions turned his stomach sour. He needed to know her location, he needed to find her and bring her home.

It had been five nights since Nikita's disappearance and the entire town of Beacon Hills held its breath in anticipation, watching the news day in and day out. Most of the audience assuming she was already dead by night three. This sick sort of sporting event became the only thing the townspeople could talk about, trying to save themselves from the mundanity of their lives. But Stiles had held onto hope like it were his lifeline.

He was receiving radio silence on the other end of the phone now...

"Nikita!"

Sheets and Sheets of rain cascaded onto the windshield of Stiles' car as he raced down the street, making it near impossible to see. White knuckles tightened onto the vinyl steering wheel, with the dangerous weather condition it would be easy to hydroplane the car. Stiles mindlessly ran through a series of red lights and stop signs, it was unlikely anyone was awake at this hour anyways.

"Stiles, everything hurts. I just want to go home." Nikita, now sobbing on the other end of the line. He could just picture her big doe eyes filling with briny tears, picture her in her delicate pink dress, the dress she wore to Formal.

Panic rose in his chest at the sound of her distress. How he wished he could change his place with hers, so that it was she who was safe and sound.

"I'm on my way Nikita! You'll be home soon, I promise."

Stiles was gazing hard through the rippled windshield and onto the road, trying to make out the street signs as best he could. The sound of thunder tore through the pitch black sky, thin fingers of electric bolts illuminating the night. The brief flashes of light rather distracting. He was still driving in no particular direction with no particular destination. All he knew was that Nikita had a phone on her, and the number came up as unknown.

"I need you to look around, what do you see, Nikita?"

"A glass box. I-I'm inside a glass box." Her soft spoken voice drifting off, exhaustion beginning to take a hold of her.

His brows met together, attempting to decipher her words, this paradigm she had presented him with. How was Nikita inside a glass box? There was no urgency to her voice or panic, from that he could tell she wasn't in danger, for now. That didn't stop the panic rising in his own chest.

"I need you to stay awake, Nikita. What else do you see?"

...Silence.

She was starting to doze, her sniffles growing less and less now. Stiles feared Nikita was succumbing to an injury, a possible concussion even. If she were to fall asleep it would be possible for her to lose consciousness and never wake again.

"Nikita! Wake up! I need you to look around. There has to be something!" The sharp snap in his voice must have startled her awake.

"Th-there's a blue- a blue bull dog." She answered, sounding determined.

Finally. An answer, not much, but something to go off of. It was the flicker of hope he needed, enough to keep the flame of determination burning.

Like most moments of victory and triumph in Stiles' life, a hurdle was dealt to him. The Jeep tires lost traction. His eyes flew wide when his steering wheel violently jerked to the right. For a split second it felt like his car was floating, gliding across the rain and oil slicked asphalt. Stiles fought the steering wheel for control, pumping his brakes as hard as possible. Wrangling the wheel proved to be fruitless, Stiles couldn't possibly overcome. The wheel locked, causing the car to spin out of control.

* * *

-Derek's POV-

These days it felt like a chunk of his heart went missing, along with a piece of his sanity.

Derek had forgotten what it was like to get rest, let his eyes close for a moment or two. Sleep had become a foreign stranger to him since the disappearance of Nikita.

Walter Grace had made him swear to never come near Nikita again, for the world Derek lived in would easily chew her up and spit her out. Derek would have to disagree with Walter. It wasn't the cruel shadowed world they lived in. No. It was Derek himself, the trouble that had leached itself onto him like a parasite. A curse crushing down on his back, for which he would endlessly carry. Perhaps it was a hungry black dog of an omen following him like a shadow, or even a curse. Call it whatever you will, those who he loved ended up hurt, dead, or missing. He was not about to let Nikita become another casualty. Derek had no choice but to break his vows to Walter, at least this once, until at least he could bring Nikita back home. He couldn't bare to lose another person in his life. It was impossible for him to think or even function when he knew she was out there, alive, and untraceable.

His solution came when he decided to turn his first Beta, Isaac Lahey. Isaac needed no convincing when it came to turning, especially after Derek's elaborate show of power at the cemetery .The ecstatic teenager seemed to be enjoying his new body and his incredible abilities. Isaac wore a newfound streak of confidence one would have never expected to see of him. No one could hurt Isaac now, no one could lay a finger on him ever again.

Derek would make sure of it.

The wolf-pup was eager to help when it came to finding Nikita, but even more eager to fit into his new life as a werewolf. He was young, naive, and often distracted by the world around him. It was hard for him to pick up her scent, when it felt like he were smelling everything for the first time.

Derek needed more than just Isaac, he needed reinforcements. If he were to find Nikita and bring her home he would need a pack. Every Alpha including himself needed a pack.

He never liked the smell of hospitals. Yet here he was, stealthily moving past the information desk with his head low so no cameras could recognize him.

It always smelled of clorox, illness, and the rot of patients who were slowly dying. The putrid scents intermingled violently and overpowered his senses, making it hard to concentrate. And now he couldn't help but to think of all his visits to Peter. That vile scum was resting pretty six feet under, he had made sure of it. Derek's visit here would be brief, he would be in and out fast. Hopefully to go unnoticed.

It was the dead of night, the hospital and staff silent. A sleepy spell had blanketed over the hospital, the patience stirring soundlessly in their slumber, save for the soft buzz of electrical currents generating the place and a cough in the distance. Derek tugged at the bottom of his leather jacket, feeling the smooth material between the pads of his fingers,and letting out a short sharp sigh before starting his journey.

Each room conveniently had a clipboard pinned to the back of the door with patient information. Nothing classified, just general information for the Doctor's knowledge. He would pass each room, tired grey eyes roaming across the clipboard; looking for the right fit.

Essentially, Derek Hale was shopping for his next Beta.

His requirements weren't too demanding, simple, yet specific. He needed someone younger than him, it was easier to train those who are young and eager. Teenage minds tended to be malleable and impressionable. All of these patients on the clipboard were either much too young, or much too old for Derek's taste. That's when he came to a name that stopped him in his tracks.

Erica Reyes.

The Alpha's brows lifted, his forehead scrunched upon reading the patient summary. The ripe age of Sixteen, meaning there was a chance she and Nikita were classmates. His fingers traced down the page, skipping the medical terminology he didn't quite understand until he came across the words: Epilepsy.

This was proving to already be much easier than expected.

Derek slid into the darkness of Erica's hospital room. At once the Alpha was hit with the unmistakable scent of grief. Its salt and bitterness so dense on his senses, he could almost taste it on the tip of his tongue. She, unlike the rest of the world was wide awake, sitting up on her bed, sniffling back her tears. Erica hadn't noticed Derek's presence, the bright white glow of her cell phone reflected clearly in her black horn rimmed glasses.

She had finally peered up from her device when Derek gently closed the door behind him, Erica letting out a startled gasp.

"W-who are you?"

He didn't bother to give her an answer, his head tilting to the side giving her one of his well known deep gazes. Derek was expertly playing into her fears and intrigues. Fear and intrigue would turn itself into desire and want. She saw him as dangerous, but more importantly...enticing. Like the typical brooding hero young girls fawned over. A teenage girl with the lowest of self-esteem like Erica was an instrument, and Derek could play this instrument blind.

She sat up straight.

"I asked you a question!" Erica wearing her mask of courage, only for it to break with the falter in the tall shadow Derek casted upon her.

As the Alpha neared towards the frightened girl, he could see the visible side effects of whatever they were forcing her to ingest in order to maintain her epilepsy. Her youthful face was smattered with harsh red acne, her lips dry and crusted, along with the yellow straw like hair pulled back into a frizzy bun. Derek casually snatched her pill bottle off the bed stand, sitting himself at the end of her bed. Erica had yet to move, or to speak, her rapid little heart rate hammering against his ear drums. Derek held the bottle for her to see, holding the one thing she relied on to get through a normal day. How easily normalcy could slip between her fingers if she were to forget her pills. Her eyes danced back and forth between the bottle and Derek himself, unsure of what was going to happen next.

He took the phone from her small trembling hands, to look at what had her crying earlier. She made no effort in grabbing for her phone, but the hesitation was clear in her amber eyes. His heart sank with what he saw on the phone. Erica was shaking violently on the floor, some of her classmates sent in a flurry of panic, unsure of what to do. A boy -familiar to Derek- with a dark mess of hair and a denim jacket trying to help her. The boy in denim looked up at the camera with his vibrant blue eyes, shouting for them to stop recording. There were others in the video too, three boys in lettermen jackets, laughing at the sight before them; the cameraman himself chuckling as well. Derek let out a long sigh shaking his head, disappointed with what he saw. Disappointed with those who laughed at her, for they so much reminded him of his reckless teenage self.

Erica grabbed her phone and pill bottle back, placing the phone face down on the bed. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hiding the bottom of her face. Not so much scared of Derek now, more humiliated than anything. Her red rimmed eyes looked to him.

"It took one hour for the entire school to see that video, six hours until it became viral." She informed him.

Derek scooted closer to Erica, expecting her to move away from him. His fingers came to brush a stray strand of blonde hair out of her face. Clearly no boy had shown her any sort of attention or affection before, Erica looking both wildly uncomfortable and awe struck at the same time.

Although, Derek was no boy.

The Alpha gave her the most endearing smile he had in his arsenal of charm. Derek had learned at a young age that honeyed words mixed with mild flirtation created the perfect cocktail for people to get drunk upon.

"What if I told you-" The tips of his fingers lazily brushing up and down the side of her bare legs, goosebumps swimming to the surface to meet his warm touch. "-That I can take all of this away."

She blinked wide, unable to process his words. "What?"

"You can be even prettier than you already are." His fingers went to pull her blonde hair out of her bun, allowing it to fall past her shoulders.

" You can be so much stronger." Derek then took off her glasses, Erica squinting awkwardly.

" You can make girls envy you and boys fall on their knees for you." Derek easily stroking Erica's ego, and essentially giving her an offer she couldn't possibly turn away.

"I want it." Erica's answer coming out breathlessly. "I want it now, how do I get it?"

Erica's enthusiasm pleased Derek, another rare large smile appearing on his lips. His hand wrapped firmly around the crease of her elbow, pulling her in closer.

"All you need to do is hold very still." Derek's eyes glowing a blood red, his canines exquisitely unsheathing themselves.

"This may sting a little."

* * *

-Stiles' POV-

Luck happened to be on Stiles' side that night, his car had stopped just inches short from colliding into a tree. If this were luck, he hoped it would be enough to find Nikita. Stiles let out an exasperated sigh, having nearly met his fate and escaped without a scratch. The rain sounded like pebbles dropping onto a tin roof, relentless and angry. Even with the scare and the foreboding weather, Stiles would persist.

He was in pure agony as he racked his brain, trying to figure out what little information he had gotten out of Nikita. Of course his phone wasn't getting any internet service, it was up to him and only him to find her.

Stiles' head lightly tapped against the steering wheel a few times, beating himself up mentally and physically.

"Think. Think. C'mon Stiles."

He muttered under his breath, his own voice lost beneath the drumming of rain against the roof of his car. Stiles continued to bump his head against the steering wheel, in hopes of jump-starting his brain.

As though a self inflicted concussion could help sort things out…Any harder on the steering wheel and the airbags would deploy, that was the last thing he needed right now. He peered out the windshield, trying to figure out his whereabouts. It was then, his eyes landed on the upper corner of his windshield. The white car service sticker had caught his attention. The writing on the sticker reminded him that he needed an oil change in a few months. His father had taken his car into an auto shop a few towns over, swearing their service was cheaper compared to most.

"Oh my god." Stiles took in a gasp before a smile broke his surprised expression. There it was, a faded blue bulldog printed in the background of the sticker.

He knew where she was, he knew exactly where Nikita ended up.

The engine came to life and Stiles raced down the road once more. The sound of sharp rubber screeched over wet asphalt when he made a sharp U-turn, almost tipping his jeep over in the process. Stiles couldn't help but to let out an uncontrollable laugh and fist pump the air. He knew she was still alive, he knew he would be the one to bring her home, he would finally find her. Stiles drove so fast that the tree line began to blur past him, blending into the night like a dark oblivion.

The relentless rain subsided to a steady drizzle in time with him pulling up to the autoshop. Stiles threw his car's gear into park, violently parking in front of the garage. Finally he came to what Nikita described. It was flickering non-rhythmically in bright blue neon, the icon of a bulldog. The flat of his palm banged against the thin metal garage, calling out her name, the sound of his desperation drowning out in the rain.

There was no answer, no sign of Nikita.

Stiles' fingers raked over his tender scalp, wishing he had longer hair so he could pull at it with all the frustration and confusion he was feeling. Stiles head whipped side to side, looking at his surroundings. She had to be here, was this some cruel sick joke? Was she even on the phone in the first place? Was this constructed in his head out of fear and desperation? Or was he finally losing it...

Hearing things that actually weren't there.

Stiles rubbed the front temple of his head anxiously, rubbing the delicate skin so that it felt raw. That's how it all started for his mother, she started hearing things in her head. After a few weeks she gradually started seeing things that weren't actually there. Tricks of the eye, tricks of the mind. He could hear his own mother's voice screaming at him now, begging Stiles to get away from her. She had so drastically changed in her last weeks, her ghost sometimes coming out of the dark depths of his repression to haunt him. No. Not now.

He was starting to question his sanity, hoping and praying that he wasn't on the same slippery path as his mother. Was Stiles so desperate to find Nikita that he was tricking his mind into believing all of this? His heart began to sink to the bottom of his stomach, the gut wrenching feel of nausea coming back for him .

Defeat was inevitable, and Nikita was unattainable.

The rain began to blur his vision, Stiles rubbing away at his eyes for more clarity. He turned to look over his shoulder, taking in his surroundings. The heaven like glow had caught his attention, how had he not seen it before?

Across the street, before the intersection was a lone telephone booth.

A faint white light illuminated the top of the glass paneled box. Just then a figure slowly rose up inside the phone booth. Stiles' eyes grew wide, his breath caught in the back of his throat. Perhaps the rain played cruel tricks with what he saw, it looked to be a young lady in a dress.

"Holy shit." He muttered under his breath when realization came for him.

For a moment, Nikita's hand rested against the window of the booth, reality sinking slowly for the two of them.

Stiles kicked back gravel, running as fast as he could towards her. The rain was blinding at this point, but he cut through like a swift bullet. He didn't care, he wanted to hold her in his arms, he wanted to keep her safe; he never wanted to let go of her again.

She had finally been found.

Nikita opened the glass door and almost toppled out if it weren't for her grip on the door handle. Her dark hair curtained over her face, she hung limply off the door.

"Niki!" Stiles yelled again, he knew it was her , it had to be her, if only she looked up. Sick intrusive voices chanted in his head, reminding him it was nothing but a mere illusion; reminding him of his mother's downfall.

Finally her head lifted, half lidded mossy eyes met his. This prompted Stiles to run faster, even though he was already out of breath. She stepped out and limped towards him, wincing in pain. Dirt and dried blood covered every inch of her fair skin, her pink formal dress now faded to a light grey. The rain washed her body clean, cleansing her of the impurities stuck on her. Blood, dirt, and tear stains dissolving into the gutter to wash down the storm drain. He ran to her and cupped her face in his hands. All of this felt so surreal, feeling the touch of her skin on his made it feel real. It was her, it was actually Nikita Grace. Her dark eyes swirled with fear and confusion. She didn't know what to say, he didn't know what to tell her, finding himself to be just as scared and confused.

There she was, in the flesh…Shaking all over like a leaf in the wind. Her lips blue, blood crusted, and quivering along with her chattering teeth. Stiles noticed the top half of her dress stained black with blood, the bottom of her dress shredded and torn, and her hair caked and knotted with mud. She didn't even look like the girl he took to Winter Formal. Nikita was unrecognizable if it weren't for the silver heart necklace around her neck

She grabbed Stiles' soaking shirt with her left hand, her right hand had been balled into a fist the entire time. Stiles pulled her in close and she rested her head on his chest, his name escaped her weary lips in a sigh. Stiles could feel tears stinging at his eyes when she burst into uncontrollable sobs, he couldn't blame her with all the trauma she had gone through.

"You're with me now, you're safe Niki." He assured her, rubbing comforting circles on her back.

Even though Stiles could feel a lump rising in his throat he couldn't help but to smile. For once he felt the weight of the world lifted off his shoulder as he held the girl of his dreams close. Maybe his father would put down the bottle, maybe the entire town would get off his back. Things were looking hopeful from here.

His hand came to cradle the back of her head, pulling her in closer, enclosing her in safety. The sticky warm mixture of Nikita's blood and earth coated the palm of his hand. Stiles immediately pulled away his hand in order to examine the gore. His eyes shot wide with concern. She wore a fresh wound to the back of her head. Without a word of warning Nikita's body went limp and her strength gave out.

" Non no no!" He cried out.

Stiles caught her just in time; her eyes and head rolling back to the heavens. Right hand still bunched tight. Nikita was weak, dehydrated, and severely injured. She needed medical attention right away. He scooped her up, holding her as close to his body as he could. Hoping his body heat could keep her warm. Stiles stopped briefly at the sound of coins slipping from between her fingers, watching various pieces of silver roll and rattle on the asphalt.

He didn't have time to sit and ponder upon the coins, safely buckling Nikita into his car and taking off.

* * *

Hope you guys enjoyed it!

It was weird writing a chapter without a POV of my own Oc in there.

If you read the chapter please let me know what you thought. We've just barely begun season 2, but damn I have so much in store for you guys :]


	19. Chapter 19

_Hey guys! So excited to present you all with the next chapter. Thank you so much for being so patient. This was one of those chapters I had a lot of difficulties with since it's a transition chapter. I hope you guys like it!_

 _Major shoutout to you amazing reviewers, thank you so so much. I literally hang onto your reviews for motivation. You are all so inspirational. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to let me know what you think, I appreciate it so much._

* * *

 _With death comes complete blackness, finality._

 _An end to sight, an end to breath, an end to life._

 _Soft white light had enveloped her, enraptured her so that she couldn't move a muscle. Her eyes burning, red and raw from crying. Tears rolled off the side of her face, she was on her back. Nikita's nails scratched at the hard surface beneath her, feeling the rough threads of cloth slide across the solid surface it sat upon. All sensation below her waist ceased to exist, mobility was not an option. The hellfire of pain had yet to subside, eating her bones to dust._

 _This was not the bottom of Suicide Hill._

 _Nikita laid there, lips moving, but no words coming out._

 _A silent prayer for death. She prayed for something to deliver her from pain and put an end to her misery._

 _Her prayer came to her in the form of an Angel._

 _A gasp escaped her bloodied lips and her tears halted. Nikita blinked hard. What a beautiful ethereal thing for her to behold with her foggy eyes. Her Angel stood above her, with their magnificent gold illuminated halo sitting atop their head. Was this her protector, here to guide her to the gates of heaven? Or was this her angel of death? Fear began to slip from Nikita, in it's place was contempt._

 _She was ready to leave._

 _Her brows came together, an effort one could hardly muster. Nikita fought to raise her arm, so that she could just touch her Angel, but that too was broken along with the rest of her. She wanted to see her guardian Angel's face so badly, which was shrouded deep in shadows; the white light above the both of them blinding. She could only make out her Angel's silhouette save for the glowing halo._

 _The world around Nikita seemed to spin, faster and faster. Her vision beginning to spiral into darkness, making it even harder for her to see her Angel. Nikita's tear filled eyes set on the golden halo above the Angel's head. If it were actually an Angel, where were its wings?_

 _The Angel's fingers came to brush a strand of sweat soaked hair out of her face. She swallowed thickly at it's warm touch, blood and bile looming in the back of her throat._

 _It was time, she knew. Her heavy eyelids slowly lowering, her head couldn't seem to stop from lolling side to side. The angel grabbed a hold of her face with both hands to stop her head from rolling, keeping Nikita as still as they could._

" _Are you scared, Nikita Grace?"_

 _Her Angel was a man, with a voice so rough and deep, angels weren't supposed to speak in such harsh insidious tongues._

" _No." She wanted to say, finding the effort too much when death was beckoning her. Nikita was tired. There was nothing she wanted more than to let her mind fall, her eyes close, and rest forever._

" _Not anymore."_

Nikita's eyes fluttered open to a plain white ceiling. She woke from her dream with stiff sheets clutched tight in her hands. Nikita sat up at once. The heart monitor next to her obnoxiously mimicking her racing pulse. Her groggy eyes landed to the lightboard across the room. Blue illuminated Xrays of a skull on display. She blinked hard piecing together what she saw. Nikita's fingers went to the back of her head to feel a thick bandage wrapped around her.

"Oh god." She said in a small whisper.

Her fingers gently traced the hem of the bandage to slip beneath. There she felt warm puckered skin, a ragged tear brought together by multiple sutures. Her stomach churned a storm at the feel of her head wound, the feverish heat of panic starting to swelter across her body.

"...Niki?"

A small voice came to the right of her, Nikita turned to see Lydia Martin sitting cozy in a chair. It looked like she had just woken, her eyes blinking slowly and adjusting to the soft daylight. Nikita was as perplexed as ever to see the redhead here. The last time they saw each other they were verbally tearing each other apart. And to see Lydia in a grey hospital gown rather than a designer get up was borderline disturbing.

"Was it a nightmare?" Lydia leaning towards Nikita's hospital bed, a look of concern painted on her face.

She supposed that peculiar dream was a sort of nightmare, unsettling if she were to be honest. Nikita too confused by her surroundings and Lydia to properly form a sentence. Her eyes now transfixed on the hospital bracelet worn on her friend's thin wrist. Lydia looked down to her own wrist, her expression stilling instantly

"Animal attack." Lydia informed her, hand coming to wrap around her abdomen. "The same night you fell." Her olive green eyes back onto Nikita, tears starting to form at the waterline.

Nikita's head cocked to the side, unable to comprehend. "Animal attack? I tripped?"

Lydia's mouth went slack, hanging open. "Nikita...Do you not remember the night of Winter Formal? You fell from Suicide Hill and went missing for five nights. Everyone thought you were dead! And Stiles found you."

"Stiles found me?" Nikita vaguely remembering the ordeal. "Where is he?"

The Redhead went on, ignoring Nikita. "They found you with nothing but a fist full of coins, where did you even find them?"

Nikita shook her head, not having an answer. This was all so much to process in the short amount of time she had been awake. Lydia's voice seemed to drone out, a sincere apology choked between stifled sobs was heard. But Nikita couldn't seem to focus, racking her brain so desperately in hopes of remembering...

Something.

Anything.

The last thing she could recall was leaving Stiles on the dance floor after they had kissed. She had been so childish leaving Stiles behind like that. Everything after that felt like Nikita was tuning an old T.V only to find her memory heavily obscured by white static.

The door opened, in entered a woman Nikita had never seen before. She was tall and slender, wore black dress pants that tapered at the bottom. At the top she wore a white button up beneath a pewter blazer. Her face rather sharp, softened by a smattering of freckles splayed across her cheeks. Raven black hair tied back in a loose knot, with only a few strands to frame her face.

Nikita and Lydia exchanged glances, the woman looking like she owned the place, with a confidence even Jackson Whittemore couldn't hold up to.

"Who are you?" Lydia rather protective and blunt.

"I'm Detective Hirst." She said whipping out her badge from the pocket of her blazer. "I would ask who you are, but I don't seem to care. Now get out, you're in the way of my investigation. That itself is a federal offense."

Both Nikita and Lydia's eyes widened at Detective Hirst's audacity. Lydia reluctantly getting up to walk out of the hospital room, but not before throwing Hirst a scathing glare. Nikita swallowed thickly, not wanting to be left alone with such an intimidating person. Nikita was confused as ever, still needing time to process what Lydia had informed her. The night of Winter Formal. Her missing for five whole nights.

Detective Hirst greeted Nikita with the widest plastic smile one could pull. "Nikita, Nikita. Finding you was certainly an arduous task, rewarding, but you sent my men and I on a wild hunt. I'm glad I could bring you home."

"Stiles was the one to find me." She wanted to say out loud, she however remained silent.

The Detective sat at the edge of her bed, that same artificial smile on her face.

"Let's cut through small talk and make this quick, what do you say? I'm sure you're exhausted."

Nikita nodded her head, her fingers playing at the plastic band around her wrist. Her tired mossy eyes landed on the recording device Hirst placed at the end of her bed.

"Ok…" She agreed, so foolishly.

She pressed down on the red button belonging to her tape recorder. " The name is Detective Hirst. Responsible for finding Nikita Grace and bringing her home. Task complete. Where were you for those five nights you went missing?"

The question itself was blunt, yet expected, somehow Nikita felt like she had just been submerged in icy waters. Goosebumps rose to decorate her pale flesh, she was being put on the spot. Her tongue ran across her dry chapped lips, tasting the coppery tang of blood.

"I'm still trying to figure out the answer myself."

It seemed the answer wasn't plausible for Hirst who let out a snort of disbelief, her finger came down to pause the recording. " Alright, off the record, and between us Girlies. Your doe eyes will probably fool the press and the town. That's fine, makes me look even more heroic. If we're being honest the majority of the people in this town are dim. But you're talking to a detective here." Her pale lips curled into a forced smile, but the annoyance was clearly sitting atop her squared shoulders. " You can trust me."

Somehow, Nikita doubted that.

Hirst leaned in closer, her palms flat against the foot of the bed, hitting record. "Now answer me Nikita, where were you for those five nights?"

"I don't know." Nikita fighting the quiver in her voice, her fingers curled into the scratchy hospital bed sheet.

" Why did you jump?" Hirst pressing on with questions.

"I don't...I don't know."

This was growing to become an overwhelming hand to deal with. Nikita's pulse picking up on the heart monitor. Hirst watched it for a moment with her dark and calculating eyes, as if to see if she could catch Nikita in a lie. The panicky teenager's eyes averted towards the light board again, her X-rays on display.

Hirst's eyes following Nikita's. The picture of her skull marked with a dark spot in the back of the cranium.

"How convenient." Nikita heard the Detective mutter.

She had meant Nikita's loss of memory. Her fingers coming back to feel the bandage again. Waking up and not remembering anything was wildly bizarre and terrifying all at once.

"Have you ever thought of just...giving up?" Hirst continued with her false sympathies.

Nikita blinked wide, wondering if she had heard correctly. "Wh-what?" Her attention coming back to the detective.

Her fingers were starting to play with the silver heart necklace she wore. Nikita's thumb rubbed against her and Cora's initials, NGCH. The initials would remain there, forever and always, but at times Nikita wondered if they would vanish much like Cora did. She was dragging the silver heart back and forth on it's chain now, creating the most irritating sound. But to Nikita's ear, this was an odd sort of comfort.

Hirst's eyes narrowed on the necklace, already annoyed by the sounds." You are painted as a sad individual. Your mother recently died. Your father has a high demand job-"

"-What does this have to do with anything!?" The heat of anxiety and a flash of anger starting to radiate through her body, she could feel the beads of sweat building in her brows now.

" A family you were close with perished in a fire and now you're back in the very town where they were turned into ash. Your boyfriend dumped you very publically only to date someone you considered your friend." Hirst's head nodding towards the door, as if to signify Lydia.

"And several people witnessed you drinking alcohol throughout the night. In fact we have hard evidence of you drinking. And then there's Suicide Hill..."

"I didn't attempt suicide if that's what you mean!" Nikita could only speak through gritted teeth, how weak her stomach felt upon this conversation.

" I never said that, you seem to be filling in the blanks by yourself and piecing the night together. This should suffice me, thank you for your time, Nikita. And I wish you a speedy recovery." Hirst stopping her recording.

"You can't Psychoanalyze me!"

The Detective let out a laugh, her hand coming to cover her mouth, adding more insult. "Seeing how I have a degree in Criminology and Psychology. Yes...Yes, I can."

Just then the door flew open, Doctor Brody Jones walked in with two larger men behind him.

"Detective, I believe you do not have the authority to be in here." His dark brown eyes remained on Hirst. No trace of amusement was found, nor was there anger or irritation. Brody remained calm, still as untouched water. He always spoke so softly, in gentle whisps of words that carried lightly into the air.

Hirst held up her badge, and opened her mouth to speak when Brody interrupted her.

"You can't hide behind a badge. You have no authority from my hospital, nor the Sheriff."

Brody walked into the room, casually pulling out the clipboard off the side of Nikita's bed. His eyes scanned across Nikita's stats, his attention going back and forth between her and the clipboard. Hirst was no more than a nuisance to Doctor Jones. Nikita watched Hirst's expression harden into annoyance,

Without lifting his eyes or gracing Hirst any acknowledgement Brody continued. "And you may certainly not interrogate a minor without a parent or guardian. These men will escort you out."

Hirst let out a groan as the two larger men approached her, snatching her tape recorder back.

"That's fine, I can see myself out." Another forced sugar coated smile towards Nikita. "Enjoy your fame."

She left with haste, glaring at Doctor Jones on her way out. Nikita would have smiled if she had cared to. However she was feeling sleepy and deprived of energy. She allowed herself to sink back into the bed, no longer sitting up, carefully watching Brody as he checked up on her IV drip. Nikita was rather comfortable with Dr. Jones, perhaps the reason being he was Jonesy's father.

"I'm sorry this is our first time officially meeting." Brody spoke as he strapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm, inflating it and watching it die down.

"It's a hell of a way to meet." Nikita giving him a sheepish grin before letting out a tired yawn.

He offered her a sincere smile, it looked like he were smiling with his dark brown eyes too. Brody exuding friendliness, sincerity, even a protectiveness so naturally and effortlessly.

"Believe it or not I've met people in way worse situations. Your father can tell you all about those stories."

Nikita's brows pressed together above the bridge of her nose. "Where is Walter?" Even still she refused to call him father.

Brody's right hand came to scratch at the dark stubble on his chin before tucking it into his white Doctor's coat. "Your father is in the middle of an open heart surgery right now. He'll be here shortly to check your head wound and other injuries, he made it clear he wants to be the one treating you."

There was no denying the thought of Walter wanting to be the only person treating her made her feel special, but Nikita didn't dare let on. There was such a disconnect between father and daughter. Nikita felt like she had been living with a stranger, most of the time Walter wasn't home anyways. If she were being honest with herself, Nikita would always hold a grudge over Walter for picking Beacon Hills over her and her mother.

"Oh." Was all she said.

Brody was about to make his way out before he turned around. "Oh and Nikita. Try to stay away from the Hospital Cheesecake the nurses give you. It's horribly disappointing and tastes like what white glue smells like."

Her lips pulled into a smile, feeling the dry cracks of blood stretching and pulling at the delicate skin.

" I'll talk to my wife and see if she can send some baked goods. But for now, this should hold you over."

Brody reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a chocolate bar and tossing it towards Nikita with little warning. Her right hand shot up straight into the air from where she lay. To her surprise she caught the chocolate bar effortlessly.

"Nice catch!" The Doctor offered her a satisfied smile and a nod before making his leave, seemingly impressed with her hand-eye coordination.

* * *

-Jackson's POV-

He stood alone in the bathroom, fingers curled over the basin of the sink. Worry, regret, and guilt was starting to eat away at Jackson Whittemore. Many dreadful hours had been spent playing every second of the Winter Formal aftermath over and over in his head. The weight of Lydia's body in his arms as she bled freely. The horrified look Sheriff Stilinski and Walter Grace had given him when he had confessed to him last seeing Nikita in the woods.

Jackson was holed here, hiding from the student population.

Where was Derek Hale?

The Alpha was nowhere to be found after he had given Jackson the bite. All his days now spent looking for Nikita.

Jackson was supposed to be a werewolf, was he not? Derek Hale, an Alpha, had given Jackson the tremendous gift. When was it supposed to kick in? When were his powers supposed to turn on and activate? He was supposed to be strong by now, certainly much stronger than that twig Scott McCall. Perhaps his powers would come to fruition with the full moon.

He headed out of the bathroom and breezed down the school hall to see people gathered at Nikita's locker. The fellow students had decorated Nikita's locker with pictures of her, garlands, and stickers. A few handful of bouquets rested before her locker. All that was missing was a candle-lit vigil and a non-sentimental speech by the class president. They had already turned her locker into a memorial. All these people who have never made an effort to talk to her, mourning a girl they couldn't even begin to understand.

"She's not even dead, morons." Jackson hissed as he walked by, their slack jawed faces following him down the hall.

"Jack-ass." One of them spitting venom as he walked on by.

His fingers raked painfully over his scalp, Jackson in a world of confliction and self loathing. His current girlfriend was at the hospital, he couldn't bring himself to visit Lydia. Although it wasn't just Lydia's near death experience that had him reeling. Jackson couldn't help but to feel guilty over what happened to Nikita. Everyone knew he was the last person to see her, to leave her behind. If he could go back and change that night, bring her inside with him rather than leaving her in the woods...he would. Many nights had been spent wondering where Nikita was, where she had vanished to. If he were a werewolf, like Derek had promised, he would be out there right now searching for the scent of her jasmine perfume.

Instead, Jackson was useless, a weak helpless human. Nothing could quell the hatred Jackson was feeling towards himself, and an indirect rage towards Nikita herself. So much tragedy could have been avoided if she hadn't been such a brat. Nikita may have been dead by now, and Jackson would be held responsible.

He hurried into the empty music room to find exactly the person he was looking for.

Jonesy was seated before the chestnut upright piano, pressing the same key unenthusiastically. He slumped over, eyes glued feverishly to his cell phone. He too -like the rest of the school- had grown forlorn and silent since the disappearance of Nikita.

The two of them never really had a true friendship, Jackson and Jonesy. Instead it was something more intense, unspoken, and forbidden. Or at least that's how Jackson had seen it. Jonesy on the other hand wanted nothing to do with him. Even then, he allowed Jackson to sit beside him.

A heavy silence blanketed over them, neither of them wanting to be the first to talk. Jonesy's breathtaking blue eyes still refusing to leave his phone. Jackson slid closer to him on the slick piano chair, testing his boundaries. He was hurting much like Jonesy, the two of them in a place of fear and confusion, Jackson's inner turmoil starting to make its way to the surface. With Nikita's disappearance he had turned into such a mess. He needed something to alleviate this hurt.

Wordlessly and cautiously, Jackson allowed his hand to rest on Jonesy's knee for a moment, watching Jonesy closely,before resolutely travelling up his thigh. To his surprise Jonesy didn't stir, nor did he resist Jackson's clear sexual advances. His focus still on his phone. It was an open window, and he wasn't going to let it shut on him this time, not again. Jackson grabbed the side of Jonesy's face, pulling in the fellow wrestler close. His lips planted kisses on the edge of Jonesy's smooth jawline. Inhaling the splendid aroma of him, he smelled of Axe and some sort of spice that undoubtedly lit an untamable fire deep within Jackson. He would have to introduce him to a proper cologne, so Jonesy didn't have to smell so boy-ish all the time.

Jackson's sense of control was easily relinquished in the presence of Jonesy, allowing himself to be free, allowing himself to truly give into desire. How did the boy with the tousled dark hair and excessively ripped jeans have such a deep and strange enchantment over him?

He would never know. But for now, his lips against Jonesy's flushed skin was the only thing that mattered. How badly he wanted this.

His name escaped from Jonesy's lips in a breath, a lingering frustration in his voice which Jackson chose to ignore. He was trying so hard to get Jonesy's face to turn towards him, so that he could just get a taste of all that lingered on Jonesy's tongue. That tongue, that had undone him time and time before, the same tongue that spoke such beautiful poetic lyrics.

"C'mon MVP, don't tease me like this." Jackson would usually hate how desperate that sounded, but he didn't care, not now.

It was evident now, him wanting to get lost in Jonesy so that he could bury his head and ignore the world for a second. Pretending his own body was finally coming into its powers instead of being dormant. Jonesy, however, had no desire to be with Jackson, silently pulling his head away. Jackson's lips returned to the side of Jonesy's face, fingers threaded through that dark soft hair, gripping it tightly, pulling him even closer; Jonesy loved when people played and tugged his hair. That didn't seem like the case today, his elbow coming to nudge Jackson in the rib, pushing him away and creating space between them.

He watched Jonesy's jaw clench and square, his hands folded tight in his lap, as if to hold them back. Hypnotic blue eyes refused to look at Jackson, still busily trained on his cell phone.

"I'm not in the mood for your antics, Jackson." The wrestler warned.

Jackson let out a sharp sigh, the pressure and heat he was feeling in his jeans was already a nuisance, more so than Jonesy's stubborn mind. " I'm not playing games with you, I just-"

Jonesy's phone went off with a vibration, his screen lighting up, his attention still on his stupid phone.

He let his eyes roll, hating that stupid I-phone more than anything for interrupting him. Jackson wanted to come clean to Jonesy about his true feelings. How he really wanted to be with him. Things however, like now, always seemed so complicated.

A small smile pulled at Jonesy's full lip, Jackson frowning at this, nowhere near fond of Jonesy's excitement.

"What could you possibly be smiling at right now?"

Jonesy held his phone in his hand. "My dad just texted me. Nikita woke up in the hospital this morning, they want to release her in five days."

Words seem to fail Jackson at the moment, his mouth hanging open. He had just heard Jonesy say that Nikita was awake, meaning they had found her. Meaning Nikita was alive. His heart could have burst out of his chest at that very moment. Jackson shot out of his seat, eyes still wide with glee.

"They found her!?"

Jonesy nodded with his dreamy smile. "Yeah. She's safe. Stiles found her this morning."

How his heart could soar upon the news. They had found Nikita. The load of guilt Jackson wore on his shoulders seemingly dropped to his feet, and he found himself smiling along with Jonesy.

"This is great!" Jackson holding himself back from kissing Jonesy once more. Instead he shouted a quick 'bye' over his shoulder and headed out.

Jackson breezed down the hall once more, this time Matt from yearbook was taking photos of Nikita's locker, still decorated like a shrine. Jackson carelessly shoved Matt to the side, eliciting a slew of insults from the photographer; which only fell deaf upon his ears.

The jock was far too excited.

He had enough of mourning and guilt. His hands came to rip all the posters and photos off of Nikita's locker. "She's not dead !." Jackson glaring down at those gathered around him now. "Get it in your thick skulls!"

Jackson merrily made his way down the hall, ignoring the stares of the group he left behind. In moments his gleeful strut came short when he felt a warmth rolling from his nostrils, the most putrid scent invading his sense of smell.

Horror gripped the very soul of him when his fingers came to touch the wet warmth, only to see his finger tips covered in thick ink like liquid.

* * *

-Scott's POV-

"I wish I could be there with her, holding her hand."

Scott watched Allison patiently from behind a cement tombstone, Stiles quietly beside him. The two of them having crashed Kate Argent's funeral. Scott wanted to be there for Allison, be her emotional support. However a severe iron clad wall was put between them the day Scott got a taste of a cold steel revolver in his mouth, Chris' gun. The Argent patriarch had made it clear the two were never to see each other, or Scott would suffer dire consequences.

That would never stop the two of them from seeing each other. The two have kept their relationship under secrecy. It was times like this where it became more difficult. Allison kept herself composed and graceful as she pushed past a sea of cameras, the press was having a field day.

"Wait til the press finds out about Nikita." Stiles groaned in annoyance.

Stiles was right. As soon as the press found out about Nikita being found, they would implode with excitement and forget all about Kate Argent and the Hale tragedy.

Allison finally seated herself between her parents, peering over her shoulder in hopes of catching sight of Scott.

"I'm right here, by your side." The Beta whispered out. If only Allison were close enough to hear.

Stiles turned to look at him, his nose pinched up. "Yeah...I know that, buddy." His attention going back to the service.

The two of them grew especially quiet when an elderly gentleman made his way through the crowd to join the family. Scott watched him carefully, clearly a member of the Argent family, having gone up to hug both Chris and Victoria. Scott honed in on his sensitive hearing, the man named Gerard introducing himself to Allison as her Grandfather. Allison looking rather uncomfortable now. Kate, who she thought she knew so well was a cold hard killer. Scott knew Allison missed parts of her aunt, which was now plagued and rotted when the truth came out.

"Another Argent?" Stiles inquired, his brows together with question.

"This one seems just as dangerous as Chris."

A silence fell upon the cemetery, the priest standing from his seat opposite of Kate's casket. A single white rose rested upon the mahogany casket. No one other than the Argent family showed up for her funeral. The Priest cleared his throat to start a heartfelt eulogy, the casket slowly started to lower underground by the hands of the undertaker.

Scott's head perked up when he caught the sound of screaming and shouting far off in the distance, Stiles and the rest of the humans had yet to notice. Somehow, the screaming was mixed in with guitar riffs, heavy metal music. The scent of burning rubber wafted in the crisp cold air, the disturbing music coming closer and closer.

The Beta grabbed Stiles' arm, who was still blissfully aware. "It's coming towards them!"

Just then a beat up orange Pinto with a white roof drove across the field, tombstones scraping its underbelly and sending out sparks. The press and common civilians alike let out shrieks of terror, running out of the car's path. Scott couldn't believe his eyes, he and Stiles exchanged horrified glances from where they hid.

The old school car stopped just short of the Argents, all of them confused. Chris shielding his daughter and wife from whatever was about to emerge from inside the car. Gerard, however looked peeved and red faced.

Out came two men Scott had never seen before. One just by the looks of him was a military man. He was broad in shoulders, with arms bigger than Derek's head. The stranger was clad in green army pants and a black tank top, dog tags hanging around his neck. He looked like one of those cologne models you plastered all over department stores. Scott wouldn't be surprised if he were strapped with weapons. A hunter, no doubt. But it was the man exiting the passenger seat who held his attention the most.

What a site he was, peculiar and ghastly at once, with his golden tooth shining in the sun.

A punk, no doubt. In every sense of the word. It seemed he decided to attend the funeral with no shirt on, showing off the scattered and poorly crafted tattoos that covered his body. A shock of platinum blonde streaked the front of his hair, the rest dyed an energizer bunny pink. The chains wrapped around his black combat boots rattled with each aggressive step he took towards the casket. He finally ripped off his bright orange lensed sunglasses when he came face to face with Gerard.

"Is he wearing suspenders?" Stiles muttered under his breath, blindly reaching for his phone in his pocket. "This is going to be good."

"You're not supposed to be here, Calvin! This is a private family affair." Gerard trying to control the temper in his voice.

"I wanted to see her!" The man named Calvin pushed past Gerard. Chris was ready to tackle the peculiar stranger when Gerard held out his hand, keeping Chris's guard down.

Those who were present, along with Scott and Stiles watched with curious eyes when Calvin shoved the Priest aside and knocked him to his ass. An irritated sigh was let out by Gerard. His friend, the military man sat in one of the white chairs, casually pulling out a thick hand rolled cigar. Not the best place to smoke one.

Calvin stood above the lowered casket, head dropped down. Scott could see his lips moving, just barely making out what the man was saying. Words of love and tenderness were being whispered, something about Kate being his wildflower, his golden haired goddess.

"I think he was in love with Kate." Scott whispered to Stiles, who let out a snort of disbelief.

"He's much younger than her." Stiles pointed out. "Maybe a few years older than Derek."

Both boys startled when the grown man let a cry, and spread his arms out wide like a bird and let himself free fall into the grave and on top of the casket.

"Please don't go, Kate!" Scott could hear Calvin crying out between heavy sobs, hugging and holding onto her coffin. "I NEED YOU MY GOLDEN HAIRED GODDESS!"

The Cameras went off again, this time the press didn't care to stand behind the security tape designed to keep them out, they charged forth. Gerard jumped onto the closed casket, attempting to pry Calvin off his dead daughter, but Calvin was putting up a fight. Chris grabbed at Allison's arm, guiding her away from the thick crowd, his hand coming to shield his eyes from all the flashes of the camera. Even from a distance the flashes were messing with Scott's vision, making him rub at his eyes and making it hard to focus on Allison. Amidst the sea of cameras and general chaos, military man was happily enjoying his Cigar, puffing away. He had turned around, his eyes landing directly on Scott, who was still having a hard time with his vision.

The hunter's glare remained deadlocked on the Beta as if he were examining every bit of him, making a mental note of his face. Scott swallowed thickly, there was no way for the hunter to figure out what he was. Scott looked like every other teenager, yet the pace of his heartbeat was immensely high.

Both Scott and Stiles blinked wide when the hunter raised his arm and closed his right eye, Cigar between his gritted teeth. He tucked in his his pinkie and forefinger, motioning a gun with his hand, and pretended to cock and shoot it at the boys. A hearty laugh escaped him upon the sight of their horrified faces.

Scott jumped to his feet, grabbing the back of Stiles' hoodie. "We need to get out of here!"

The two of them ran off without looking back.

* * *

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!

I can't wait for the next chapter. For my past readers, the third main OC will be introduced, finally. And things may get a little X-rated ;]


	20. Chapter 20

Hello everyone! Told you the next chapter would be up sooner!

A big shoutout to my readers and reviewers, you guys are so damn amazing and I can't wait to hear more from you. Thank you so much to: Enchantingnightmares, Peachy48, Wildrecklessyouthinme (go check out her new story!) Ferallahey, the wailingwolf25, huntsthemoon, City of Books, Survivorgirl, princessdarkness12, TW-addict, , Maddie Rose, It belongs in a museum, January Lily, K Static, The Chosen Pen, and Beccasco! You guys are awesome!

\- warning- The last POV is explicit and mature with sexual content. So if smut makes you uncomfortable, please go ahead and skip it!

Shoutout to Ferallahey for looking over this chapter for me. Big props to TW-Addict for being my smut guide, this was terrifying to write but you made it easier!

* * *

-Scott's POV-

Apart from he and Allison not being allowed together, things had been going relatively well the past few days. There was still buzz in the air over Nikita, people had slowly discovered that she had finally been found. All conversation was focused on her, Kate Argent's controversy had now been buried underground much like herself.

With Stiles beside him, they walked down the school halls. His friend was beaming with pride, having found Nikita. The school was slowly discovering about Nikita being found, and soon enough Stiles would be celebrated as a small town hero. He knew his friend didn't care for any of that, popularity and attention had never been part of Stiles' goal, he was just glad Nikita was safe. As was Scott.

However, Scott's thoughts were elsewhere. It was only a few days ago when one of the students here had an epileptic episode in the middle of class, Erica Reyes. Scott had heard how she had lost control in the middle of history class, the students that laughed and ridiculed her, and Jonesy -valiant as ever- carried her to the nurse's office. She had yet to be seen since that day, perhaps too humiliated to show her face at school. Or perhaps she was severely injured from that day. Scott shook his head in attempt to shake such dark thoughts out of his head. Things had been going so decently since Nikita was found, that he felt like some dark cloud was due to rain down on all of them.

"My mom says Nikita doing really well." Scott informing Stiles, trying to focus on the positives once more. "She gets to have visitors today!"

"Yeah!" Stiles's hands coming to the straps of his backpack and pulling them up, his smile causing Scott to smile as well. "I already plan on seeing her later today."

Scott couldn't help but to smile, his friend so infatuated with Nikita. It was nice seeing Stiles moved on from Lydia Martin, his pining was after someone much kinder. It was amidst his thoughts when Scott was hit with a familiar scent, he wanted to believe it was Derek, but it was more than one person, and approaching him quickly. His hand shot out to wrap around Stiles' arm, stopping him from walking any farther. The two turned around to look behind them.

Both Scott and Stiles grew wide eyed as Isaac Lahey and Erica Reyes strutted down the hall towards them. At first he couldn't believe his eyes, barely recognizing them. The two were clad in leather, looking like they had stepped out of a magazine photoshoot. Erica wore her hair down, letting her shiny golden hair cascade past her shoulders. The two of them looked completely different, and their confidence held by none. They were both eyeing him now, with matching mischievous smiles.

Erica held him in a sultry gaze, Scott swallowing thickly now as she approached his personal space.

"Hey Scotty boy." She purred, her fingers coming to graze the edge of his jaw. Neither Erica or Isaac cared to stop, walking off and turning the corner.

The boys looked at each other wearing the same baffled expression. Stiles threw his backpack down in frustration, Scott's fingers coming to grip at his hair.

This had Derek Hale written all over it.

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

Soft snores could be heard in tune with her heart monitor. It was Walter slumped in the seat next to her bed, having found the time to doze off. He had been on his feet for all hours, running between surgeries and back to her, making sure she wasn't alone . While she appreciated Walter's efforts -only a few years too late- she was beginning to grow restless. Laying here was tiring, Walter rather strict about letting her wander around outside her room.

Nikita let out a puff of air, a strand of her chestnut hair rising and falling back onto her face. She looked to her father, whose head was rolled back, mouth wide open. How the hell did someone like Walter land a woman like Melissa McCall?

His pager went off, causing Walter to jump, startling him awake. The poor man was pulling eighteen hour shifts a night, sleep had become valuable to him. Walter sat up straight, rubbing at his eyes. He looked to her with a sleepy smile, she swore he hadn't stopped beaming since her 'return.'

"Sleep well?" Nikita inquiring, her finger pulling the loose thread on the corner of the scratchy blanket and wrapping it around her finger, watching it go purple.

"As well as I could." Walter stretching both his arms over his head and letting out a yawn. "Don't worry about me, Kiddo, how are you?"

She cringed at the nickname 'kiddo' like Walter was trying to be a cool dad now.

"Bored." Nikita answered so bluntly. She had been feeling so cooped up these past few days, and so goddamn sick of hospital food.

Walter let out a chuckle, getting up to his feet. "Yeah, I get sick of these beige walls too. "If it's any consolation you seem to be healing nicely."

He was at the back of her head now, redressing the bandages, taking his time to clean the wound. She hated how wet it always felt, the cool air hitting at it, a constant reminder that it will always be there. Nikita took in a deep breath, letting it roll out slowly.

"It's going to leave a scar...isn't it."

Walter pulled at her fresh bandage, making sure it was wrapped securely. "You don't know that." Him trying his best to sound so certain, or possibly using his Doctor voice on her.

"You should know, you're the doctor."

A knock came at the door, Nikita turning to look at Walter with curious eyes. His mossy eyes twinkled with amusement, for surely he already knew who was on the other side. Her glare narrowed on him, absolutely hate being in the dark about anything.

"Someone is allowed to have visitors today!" Walter chimed in a sing-song voice.

She sat up straight, her fingers working at her hair, trying her best to look somewhat presentable. In her heart she had hoped it was Derek on the other side. Of course Derek would be here to visit her, aside from Walter he was the closest thing she had to family. The door opened and in walked Stiles.

Not who she had expected, yet she was delighted to see his smiling face. In his hands was a bag of in-n-out burgers, a much welcomed sight. Nikita tried to hide her giddy smile, trying her best to play cool by slouching back. It was rather difficult trying to decipher if the tumbles in her belly was a bundle of butterflies or hunger pains after being deprived of decent food.

Walter made his leave, but not before clapping his hand on Stiles' shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you." He said before heading out.

"Well I think it's safe to say I'm on his good side." Stiles giving his shoulders a shrug a sheepish grin on his lips.

Nikita jutted her chin out, looking at the white paper bag containing the goods. "You'll be on my good side when you come over here with those burgers." She patted the side of her bed, allowing Stiles to sit beside her.

Stiles -all too eagerly- jumped onto the bed, the two of them just barely fitting together, having to squeeze in tight. Nikita reached for the T.V remote as Stiles pulled out two double double burgers. A stiff and uncomfortable silence fell between them, the last time they had officially spoken was the night Stiles had found her. Yet Nikita was still filling in the blanks, that night a complete blur. Was she supposed to thank him for finding her when she didn't remember a second of it? On top of that was the awkward elephant in the room, Nikita had ran out on Stiles during the dance. And now, here they were.

He was getting jittery now, Nikita could feel his weird twitches, the boy didn't know how to sit still. Stiles was growing just as anxious as her as they sat in this silence.

"I'm sorry!" Stiles blurted out so suddenly, causing Nikita to jump at his apology.

Her bold brows raised, not sure what he was apologizing for. "It's fine?"

"I shouldn't have put so much pressure on you the night of the dance-"

Nikita shook her head. "You didn't, I was the one who kissed you. I freaked out because I liked it so much."

Perhaps that was the wrong choice of words, or perhaps Nikita needed to learn to keep some things to herself.

Stiles lit up like the fourth of July, the widest smile on his face. Nikita found herself wanting to press down a pillow on her face and hide from his stupid grin, a rosy blush flushing the apples of her cheeks.

She elbowed him gently in the ribs. "Stop looking at me like that, you weirdo!"

His eyebrows wiggled up and down. "You liked that huh? Was I a good kisser?"

Stiles' answer came to him when Nikita unceremoniously shoved his burger in his face, attempting to plug his mouth and salvage their nice moment. The two erupted in laughter, Stiles fighting her off and making fun of her small 'doll' hands. All laughter simultaneously died down as soon as the news came on. She had avoided the news for as long as she could, knowing it was a bad idea.

But she had to know. She had to know what was being said about her.

"Maybe we should watch something else." Stiles, rather quiet.

Nikita leaned forward, the corner of her top lip curling in distaste as she watched Detective Hirst standing before a podium, about to address the press. Stiles father, Sheriff Stilinski standing obediently behind her. She hated everything about Hirst, from the blue aviator sunglasses she wore, the accomplished smile on her nude glossed lips, the way her hair was always boringly pulled back. Hirst had left an acidic taste on Nikita's tongue, and she was still trying to scrub it out.

"I want to know what she says about me." Nikita pushed her burger aside, having already lost her appetite.

Camera flashes went off and Hirst tapped at the microphone, testing the audio. She had set her public statement in front of the Beacon Hills City Hall. It seemed even the romanesque statues gracing the walls were judging her too.

"I will be making this brief and holding off on all questions. Less than a week ago, Katherine Argent was found dead, having bled out due to an animal attack. Through her death, brand new information has come out. Kate Argent is responsible for the Hale fire that had plagued this town many years back. It was arson, malicious, and manslaughter." The crowd before Hirst erupted into loud gasps.

Nikita's mouth fell wide open, her hand coming to cover it. She could feel Stiles' hand coming to rest on her shoulder, attempting to recline her so she was leaning against the headboard. Nikita shrugged his hand off, far too invested in the startling information to even begin to relax. Allison's aunt had destroyed her second family. She could feel her gradual anger wanting nothing more than to unleash itself. She had sat before Kate Argent, exchanged words with Kate. Her eyes shut, her fingers finding the silver chain around her neck. How sick she felt upon remembering how Kate had held her necklace, playing dumb and asking her who the initials belonged to.

"Onto other pressing matters. The girl who stole our hearts and gave us a scare." Hirst joked with her plastic smile, the crowd snickering along with her. Nikita's eyes opening, her fingers curling into fists.

Stiles grew frantic by the second "Hey, how about we turn off the T.V and just talk for a few minutes? Maybe we can talk about how we plan on making Mr. Harris's life miserable?"

Carefully he placed his hand over hers in a desperate attempt to pry the remote from her grip, but she had no intentions of letting go.

"We had spent nearly a week looking for Nikita Grace, Sheriff Stilinski spearheading the search which included me, a great number of our men and woman at the P.D, and even some heroic citizens. I am proud to say that I have found her, Nikita is safe and in recovery." An applause erupted amongst the crowd, them celebrating Hirst's false accomplishment was sickening.

She turned to look over her shoulder, wanting to know what Stiles thought of this. It was clear upon his face, his expression soured, defeated, even angry.

"She's taking your credit."

Stiles' nostril flared, his jaw tightening for a moment. "She can have it."

Once the applause finally died down, Hirst continued. "There are many questions revolving around her disappearance. Which is why we're holding this press conference. We are laying rumors to rest, setting the record straight, and moving on, allowing Nikita to live her life peacefully."

"She's so full of it" Stiles mumbling from behind her.

"Nikita Grace hadn't lived the easiest life. Her childhood filled with traumas. She came back to Beacon Hills when her mother passed away, to a father who was much too busy to give her the attention teenagers starve for."

Her hands starting to sweat and shake with anger.

" The life of a teenager is already much too difficult, we all remember what it's like. For Nikita it was her hormones racing, the strive for popularity, homework too demanding, experiencing her first heartbreak, losing her mother, feeling estranged from her own father, not really having a home, and not really having a family. These things came weighing down on young Nikita."

Nikita fingers came to grip the roots of her hair, she couldn't believe what she was seeing, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Hirst playing her off so empathetically. What hurt the most was how terribly true her words were, they pierced through Nikita like arrows.

"Are you saying Nikita attempted suicide?" One journalist shouted from the crowd, their voice barely audible without a microphone.

"I'm saying sometimes people do irrational things for the sake of attention." Hirst so bluntly expressed, giving a nod of her head.

Nikita could have cried right there, her public image carelessly dragged through the mud. What would people at school think of her? What would people in general think of her? Hirst so clever to not outright state that Nikita had attempted suicide. The Detective was smarter than she looked, knowing a statement like that would give Nikita grounds to sue for defamation and slander.

Her head buried into her hands, wanting to hide from the entire situation. Stiles finally turning off the T.V. This was all so much to take, the newly surfaced information on Kate Argent, this entire press conference. She could feel Stiles' hand rubbing comforting circles on her back now, the side of his face pressing against her back and his arms wrapping around her. His hug, much needed.

"I'm sorry, Nikita. I'm so sorry."

* * *

If ever was there a symbol for wealth and status, it would be the enormous diamond she wore on her finger. The dazzling engagement ring was big enough to get every middle aged woman of Beacon Hills to smolder with jealousy with its princess cut and many facets- and she loved it.- Karissa was in bed, holding out her hand and admiring how her ring sparkled in the midday sunlight. It was the only thing Joseph had done right in their twenty something years married together. The bore had gotten a promotion recently, meaning he was hardly home anymore, or around to give her any attention.

Even when he was around he couldn't pull enough effort to get her off.

She squeezed shut her eyes savoring the way his tongue expertly licked up and down her slick folds. His pretty face deep between her thighs, having no qualms with keeping it there. A breathy moan escaped her, his talented tongue threatening to completely unravel her. He wouldn't stop until he could devour the sweet nectar he worked for. Her hips lifted with a jerk at the feel of him concentrating on her clit. All her body movements seem to give into his ministrations, his hand came to pin her pelvis down; forcing her to stay put. Karissa's fingers went to grip in her own hair, she couldn't remember the last time she had felt like this, alive and on top of the world. He was taking his time now, teasing her with the lazy circles he drew around her clit, before wrapping around the hardened nub and sucking on it. Karissa bit down on her lip, feeling a swell of fiery excitement in the pit of her stomach.

His bright blue eyes looked near transparent with the filtered rays of sunlight falling upon him. Those eyes had landed on her with a heated gaze, she could just see the curve of his wet smirk.

"You like that? Hmm?" He asked before gently blowing a stream of cool air onto her wet cunt and going back to work.

Pinpricks of pleasure surfaced across her creamy flesh. Her mouth hung open, because god yes, every little thing he did set her body on fire. But she couldn't even form an answer, instead she spread her legs even further without even meaning to.

Karissa, who was tired of her husband, resorted to other options, better options. Her option being a young twenty-something she picked up in the grocery store, at least half her age. He had been looking at Orange Juice when she saw him, so determined, as though it were the most important decision he would make that day. People went out of their way to avoid him, shooting him dirty glances from where they kept their distance. It wasn't that his looks were off-putting, he was handsome as hell with his sharp angled jaw and skin that looked softer than satin, a perfectly crafted dichotomy that no man could possibly carry. It was the black leather jacket he sported, the stark white letters warning people to stay the hell away from him.

All the more enticing to her.

He was hovered above her now, supporting himself on his thick arms which she couldn't stop grabbing. Streaks of dirty blonde hair fell just above his beautiful cerulean blues, thick dark lashes long enough to make her burn with envy. Even the scent of him was alluring and addicting, clean like fresh linens and soap, with a hint of lingering cigarette smoke. A curious smile pulled at her burgundy lips when his wet hot mouth wrapped around her finger, his tongue -inside of her seconds ago- running over her diamond engagement ring. He then pulled the ring off her finger with his teeth, holding it in his mouth, then turning his head to spit it across the room. Such a tease made her even more wet with anticipation.

Both her ring and her husband out of sight, and out of mind.

"That should make this a little easier." His deep voice rumbled.

The angels must have sighed upon his creation, because nothing looked quite as heavenly as he. She was going wild at the sight of his gorgeous dimples, which vanished as quickly as they appeared. His tongue ran across his bottom lip, savoring the taste of her.

"You naughty little boy. That's going to get you in trouble." Karisa purred, propping herself on her elbows so that her dark tresses fell behind her shoulders.

He didn't respond from where he sat at the end of the bed, naked, his eyes predatorily trained on her, perhaps thinking of all the ways he was going to wreck her. His cock -well hung, without being intimidating- she decided, must have been worshipped by the many women who came before her, she would gladly get on her knees for a cock like his.

Excitement bubbled in the pit of Karissa's stomach at the sight of him. He had a well toned body, muscular and lean like a professional soccer player, a sharp contrast from the usual beer belly her husband sported. She couldn't recall the last time she had actually felt excited for sex instead of dreading it like it were for duty and not for pleasure. She wanted to be fucked every which way by him, and judging by the mischievous glint in his shockingly blue eyes, he was going to do just that.

A small giggle escaped her when he tugged roughly on her thighs, her body sliding down the white satin sheets, towards the end of the bed where he stood. She didn't expect such an angelic face to be so dominating, Karissa had no idea what she was in for.

"Mmm." She moaned at the feel of him teasing her with his cock, and he carefully draped her right leg over his shoulder.

His tip rubbing against her already sensitive clit, giving her only the slightest idea of what's to come. Her impatience was snuffed out when he aligned himself and suddenly entered her all the way to the hilt in one strong stroke. The feel of him inside her, filling her, was simply electric. Her gasp of shock soon entangled in a sigh of pleasure at the feel of him setting a rhythmic pace, hitting her most sensitive area. The fluidity in which he rolled and thrusted his hips convinced her...

This boy was put earth to fuck.

Her eyes widened when his hand came to wrap around her slim throat, perhaps to steady himself. His vice grip hot and strong, making the veins in his arms that much more prominent. Blood started rushing to her head, creating the most beautiful concoction of lightheadedness and blistering pleasure, one she had never felt before in all her years of sexual experience. He was picking up the pace now, sending long but fast strokes into her. The sound of skin slapping skin grew louder, the grip around her throat grew tighter.

"Fuck!" She managed to say, crying out with every hot deep thrust he drilled into her.

The pangs of pleasure subsided for a short moment when he pulled out of her. Her flushed breasts falling and rising rapidly, glistening with her own sweat. His grip had left the skin of her throat red and raw, surely she would find bruises after he made his leave. No worries, makeup would be a simple fix.

"Turn over." He demanded in a deep gruff voice, with no real concerns of politeness, the corner of his lips twitching with the faintest of smiles. For a man of few words, he knew just the right ones to say. Karissa was already feeling spent of her energy, it was hard keeping up with his intense stamina; just a moment longer on her back was all she needed.

"Now." His voice short of patience.

She rolled over onto her belly, heeding his command eagrily. The palm of his right hand traveled down the valley of her back -not at all bothered by the beads of sweat that had collected on the fine hairs there- and over the the mound of her behind. His hand coming beneath her to perk her ass up in the air. She was on her hands and knees now, feeling exposed and on display for him. Her mouth gaped open and a delighted squeal escaped her when he grabbed harshly at her glutes with both hands and gave her right cheek a sharp and playful bite.

"You're my fuck toy. And I will fuck you however I like." His command setting her higher on a ladder of ecstasy, goosebumps swimming to the surface of her skin.

Karissa swore her eyes rolled to the back of her head when he entered her again. His hand gripped in her dark damp hair, forcing her to up on her knees. With a sharp yank of her hair her head craned back, his blunt teeth coming to nibble the delicate skin between her shoulder and neck, and leaving even more marks for her husband to find. Her bare back pressed against his bare chest. He knew how to drive her to the edge with his slow strokes, his cock buried deep inside her.

" . just like that." Karissa finding it far too difficult to choke out the words, especially with the way his hand came to pinch at her pert breast.

Pleasure was about to release like an open flood gate any moment now, especially with the way he was moving. His deep moans were all the more arousing, starting to intertwine with her own cries of pleasure.

Perhaps the closeness of her skin against his wasn't to his liking. Her eyes flew wide when he pushed her back down, the side of her face pressed against the mattress with no room to budge. He was holding her down now, her dark hair fisted in his vice grip. His foot coming to rest on the edge of the bed; driving himself even deeper. Karissa's fingers scratched and clutched at the sheets, unaware of the guttural noises he was driving out of her.

"Fuck! F-Fuck!"

Karissa felt her greedy lips convulsing around his thickness, trying to latch onto each powerful stroke. His pace quick, rough, perfect. The pleasure she felt imploded and radiated throughout her body to the tips of her curled toes. A cry escaped her while she rolled with her orgasm, the first she had felt in many years. How superb it was, but he was not done with her yet.

"What!" Karissa cried out when he flipped her over so that she was on her back. How could there possibly be more when she was still writhing in pleasure.

Her eyes shot wide when he pulled himself out of her, replacing his cock with his splendid fingers. His fingers curled upwards inside her to find her most sensitive spot. Karissa was screaming out, arousal dripping from her pussy, freshly coating his fast moving fingers. He hit her G-spot over and over, his other thumb rubbing against her swollen clit. The sensation was almost too much. She was already so sensitive, her legs trying to close, his left hand leaving her clit only to pry her legs open again.

"Keep those pretty legs open, babe."

His expert fingers were working her rough. Her back arched and her hips bucked wildly to his moves. It was like her body was no longer hers, but his to play with. God he could play with her as many times as he wanted. Karissa let out a scream, her hands coming down to grab a hold of his, trying to push him off, for what she was feeling was far too much. She had never been so dominated or overstimulated, crying out with pleasure but also trying to fight off his hand.

"I-I can't!"

"I don't care." He growled.

"Too m-much!"

"You haven't cum yet." The most devious flicker appeared behind his hauntingly blue eyes. The blonde strands that fell before them now matted dark with sweat.

"Please!" Her words holding no weight with the loud moan she let out.

Her begging only heightened his arousal, her hips rocking to his fingers. Karissa's vision began to tunnel, and she let out a shriek. Jolts of pleasure shot through her body, her very soul set on fire. And then she released, her juices flooding out without control.

All control belonged to him and his fingers.

That angelic face of his wore a wicked grin, watching her squirt at his doing. And he kept going, getting every drop of his winnings. Karissa was reduced to a sopping wet mess, soaking through the sheets and mattress. She was gushing freely into his right hand. Her legs couldn't stop shaking now, her throat raw from the screams he drove out of her. Finally his fingers retreated, feeling satisfied with how undone she was.

Surely the neighbors heard her screams. She hoped they heard. A weak but triumphant smile worked at her lips, her chest heaving up and down, her own wetness rolling down her thighs. In all her years of experience, no man was able to unravel her like that. In fact she had never cum so hard.

He sat on his knees before her, his hand sliding up and down his length, using her wetness to slick his cock. Karissa's brows came together, watching him jerk himself before her. What a splendid and erotic sight, her arousal unending in his presence. A man who made sure the woman got off first? A true rarity she would have to tell her friends about. But alas, Karissa was greedy, she would have to hide this treasure from the rest of the world. Long black lashes rested together when he closed his eyes, his frown of determination replaced by something more peaceful and euphoric, even innocent, as he continued to jerk himself off. His deep breaths stirred deeply within her, she watched his well defined abs rise and fall as he climbed the ladder of a climax. Finally, after teetering on the edge, he let himself get off.

White hot ropes of jizz landed on her chest, Karissa relishing in being used so exquisitely. His loud moans of pleasure driving her insane. She was merely a participant in him getting off, but damn..what a view. After he had gotten off, he collapsed next to her, fully spent and satisfied.

The two stared at the ceiling for a moment, both of their breaths starting to regulate. They laid there in the afterglow of sex, both their bodies sweat slicked. Karissa could still feel fissures of pleasure radiating throughout her body, aftershocks of a great quake. She propped herself to her elbows, throwing him a glance.

"Are you a sex god of some sort? What woman trained you to fuck like that?" Karissa only half joking.

He rolled onto his side, allowing his two fingers to travel lightly across her body. God Damn. The stamina on this boy. Her body still hot and overstimulated from before, yet a cold shiver danced down her spine at his touch. His fingers traced over her breasts, scooping his cum off of her.

"Do I even get your name? So I can scream it out next time?"

No answer was given, instead he shoved his two fingers into her mouth, giving her a taste of him. His action mildly offensive, effectively shutting her the hell up, and so very inexplicably hot at the same time.

"There won't be a next time." With that he withdrew his fingers from her mouth and got out of bed.

Karissa's mouth hung open, and he retreated to the bathroom. With a view of that perfect ass she watched as he washed his hands in the sink basin, and slicked his hair back with the water.

She cleared her throat. "Did- did I do something wrong?" Karissa hating how whiny she sounded, she couldn't possibly let go of this boy. She found him, she earned him, she deserved him. And wanted him whenever she pleased.

"I don't care to fuck the same person twice. And your desperation is starting to give me second hand embarrassment." His words so careless and blunt, a cringe upon his otherwise perfect face. He walked out of the bathroom, looking for his clothes.

For whatever reason this upset her greatly and she found her pleasure from earlier chased away by anger. It was the way he spoke, his disregard for her feelings, or even treating her like a person. Karissa opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but froze when she heard the sound of the garage door opening.

...Joseph was home early from work.

"You need to get out!" Karissa jumped to her feet in a state of panic, almost falling back down with how weak her legs felt. Everything was such a mess, to her hair, the jizz on her breasts, the angry red mark around her throat, the bite marks, the wet blotch left on the sheets. There was no way to cover any of this up.

"Go!" She pointed to her window, wanting him to climb out and get lost.

His fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, closing it all the way, and zipping up his pants. He let a shrug. "Not really my style. I believe there's a front door for a reason."

"Get back here!" She screamed after him as he left her bedroom, carelessly and fearlessly making his way down the stairs.

He had started his day with one mission in mind, and got mildly distracted by Karissa. Still ambitious as ever, he went off to look for what he needed at the grocery store. It was a simple request from his little brother. He opened her fridge to find Organic nature made hand squeezed Orange Juice sitting on the top shelf; it had yet to be opened.

"Perfect." He smiled to himself.

He could feel the daggered stare of another burning into his back. Turning around he saw who he assumed to be Karissa's husband standing there, fuming and red. What a stout man he was, round and shorter than him. But he looked to be a man of money and importance with his power suit and gold ring around his forefinger. His trembling fingers raked through his thick greying hair, taking in the strange young man before him.

"Who the fuck are you, and why the fuck are you here!?" The stout business man demanded, his hand reaching in his pocket for his phone; most likely to call the cops.

" I'm the guy who just fucked your wife." He so casually said like one would state their favorite ice cream right hand coming to rest on the man's shoulder, mocking sincerity. Of course it was the same hand he used to make Karissa cum with, good thing he had washed it.

The husband himself looked to the hand like it were a tentacle, disgusted and outraged.

" Get out of my fucking house." Karissa's husband so angry that he came off as unnaturally calm, his words staggering between tightly clenched teeth.

Before he made his leave, he left the husband with one last piece of valuable advice. "You should really learn how to please your wife." The curve of his smile just barely visible.

He ran out of the house, orange juice still in his left hand, the door slamming shut behind him and rattling the windows.

It was an exceptionally gorgeous day in the shit hole known as Beacon Hills. The sun was shining, the birds singing their songs, Karissa and her husband yelling and disturbing the peace. The nosey neighbors across the street couldn't mind their goddamn business. One of them stood watering the front lawn with a baffled expression pinned on him, having yet to move their hose, drowning their lovely petunias.

Most people in Beacon Hills were absolute nosy bastards. He would know, having grown up here himself.

A stroll through the town would be best, no way he could park his flashy car in front of the home he was wrecking. Alex made his way through the suburbs, realizing how similar all the houses looked. All of them built in the Seventies with the same three floor plans. None differed from the other, all with their egg-shell off white walls and typical picket fences. He even sneered at a mailbox that was a miniature model of a home. Alex was back in bizzare-o town.

Parts of him had missed Beacon Hills. It was beautiful here, in a way Chicago was not. The greenery and foliage was welcomed gladly, he even liked the silence over the buzzing streets of the City. However he would rather move across the country than rot in Beacon Hells.

After a good twenty minute walk, he arrived home. Alex walked through the front door of his house, his little brother already slumped on the couch with his bare feet on the coffee table, watching Adventure Time. It was weird being back home, surreal in fact. The walls of his home looked the same, covered with photos of he and his family. Yet the door frame that measured he and his brother's height was bothersome. It was disheartening seeing his measurements stopped right after he skipped out on town five years ago, his brothers kept going, and even exceeded what he imagined. Jonesy, being the tallest in the home now.

"Hey fuckface, got orange juice." Alex walked past the back of the couch and dropped the jug in Jonesy's lap.

Jonesy looked over his shoulder to his brother. "Sweet! Took you long enough. At least you got the fancy stuff!"

"Yeah don't say I never came through for you." Alex making his way up the stairs to take a shower.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading the chapter, I hope you guys enjoyed it! Your thoughts and reviews are greatly appreciated for I am a creature that runs on validation of others. Hope you guys liked Alex's introduction because DAMN ITS SCARY WRITING SMUT!


	21. Chapter 21

Big thanks to those of you who were kind enough to leave me a review last chapter. I was so damn nervous. I'm sorry this one took a while to get out. I was busy with a friend's wedding and life in general, plus I hit a bit of a slump. I think you guys will like this chapter, especially you Stiki shippers! Can't wait to crank out the next chapter :]

* * *

 _Her Angel hovered above her, with its magnificent glowing halo. Such a beautiful thing, it's a shame she would never get to touch it. Nikita was laying on her back, feeling nothing from the waist down. The tears welling in her eyes obscuring her vision, how she badly she wanted to see her Angel's face. This nightmare on repeat._

 _His hand came to stroke a strand of sweat plastered hair out of her face. And he asked…_

" _Are you scared, Nikita Grace?"_

Her eyes opened at the sound of a knock coming at the door.

Nikita was cozy in her own bed, letting her legs stretch beneath her cloud like comforter. It was the same bizarre dream she had been plagued with for the past few nights. She couldn't begin to wrap her mind around it, the hazy mess plaguing her nights. It was hard to tell if she was scared or more likely confused. Her foggy eyes slowly adjusted to the dim morning light. The silver of the sun shining through grey clouds filtered through her bedroom curtains, falling upon her. Nikita stretched her arms above her head, letting out a yawn. Her long and shapely track star legs finally leaving the warmth of her bed, bare feet coming down to feel the cold wooden floor.

"Come in." Her words obstructed by another long yawn. The bandages once wrapped around her head were finally off. Nikita's fingers came to pick at the scabs forming around her sutures there. It was a nasty habit, yet she couldn't seem to stop.

Her door opened a crack, curious mossy eyes peering from the other side.

"Is it safe?"

Nikita rolled her eyes at Walter's hesitance. She walked over to her desk, where a few get well soon cards and flowers rested. Walter came in, carrying breakfast on a tray.

"I made waffles!" He happily chimed. "Brought out the old iron and gave her a go, it's been a while, and I thought why not?"

"Aren't I just the luckiest girl?" Her tone short of any enthusiasm.

Nikita making an effort to hide a delighted smile. Walter used to make her waffles for any and every occasion when she was usually tasted like sawdust, but drowned in syrup and topped with a mountain of whipped cream... you couldn't really tell. Her disappearance must have given him a good scare, because he was trying harder than ever to step up to the plate. While his efforts seemed too little too late, Nikita wasn't going to give him a hard time about it; not now anyways.

"Can't start your first day back on an empty stomach! We both know how you-"

Nikita shooting him a dirty glance, as if to caution him to not finish that sentence. So what if she got snappy whenever she was hungry? Hanger is an actual medical condition, if Walter was such an accomplished Doctor like people claimed him to be, he would have known that by now.

He swallowed thickly. "-Get." Finishing it in a soft voice.

Walter enthusiastically set her breakfast down on the nightstand and began making her bed for her. It was a wildly odd sight to see, but Nikita wasn't going to stop him from cleaning up, whatever made him feel better about himself.

"Thanks, Walter." A half mutter, her attention on the white ceramic piggy bank that sat on the corner of her desk -she still refused to call him 'Dad'.

It was ugly, to put it nicely. An ugly little piggy she attempted to paint orange flowers on at a young tender age at the local Color-me-mine. It was by no means a representation of her artistic capabilities, especially compared to her recent works. She had never used that thing to hold her coins, for the most part it sat there and collected dust….until recently.

Her father went on, talking about how Nikita's first day back at school would be a wonderful occasion. She on the other hand had drowned him out, a talent she had acquired since her return to the dreaded town. Nikita picked up the ceramic piggy bank, bringing it up to her ear giving it a shake. The coins in there rattled and rolled along the walls inside, the same coins she was clutching the night Stiles had found her. There was a complete blank space in Nikita's memory, one where she couldn't connect the dots. How did she fall off the face of Suicide Hill? Where was she those five nights? And where did these coins come from?

Gently she set the piggy bank on her desk, grabbing her phone off the charger and sitting next to Walter on her bed. Nikita scrolled through missed texts, ones from Lydia, Jonesy, Allison, Stiles, and to her surprise Scott asking her how she's doing. Scott had never made much effort in befriending her, even when he and Allison were together. Nikita attributed his awkward behavior towards the fact her father was in a serious relationship with Scott's mother. Neither of them had really sat down to talk about what it meant to them, and what it could possibly turn into further down the line. Nikita wanted to roll her eyes and stuff her face into the pillow just thinking of the possibility of ever having a step brother. The idea of it bothersome to someone who had been an only child all their lives.

Even as she sat in disappointment, she somehow managed to sink even further. While many people had reached out to her, there was one who was missing.

Derek Hale.

There was no mention of him, he hadn't reached out to her once since her 'fall'. His actions confused her, along with his false promises of sticking around. Why would he open the roads to their friendship again when he never meant to put forth the effort? Nikita understood that her and Derek weren't particularly close like her and Cora were, the age gap always made sure of that. But she still had fond memories of him, and grew up believing he was the closest thing she would ever have resembling a brother...and often thought of him as such.

"Maybe you should stay home." Walter, interrupting her thoughts, soft spoken as per usual. It seemed he had picked up on her apprehension and gloominess. "I could write you a doctor's note, you know."

And he gave her a wink-wink-nudge. Nikita, the victim of yet another terrible dad joke that he found far too funny.

Nikita let out a sigh, her fingers struggling to run through knotted chestnut hair.

"I cannot stay another day in bed. I'm getting far too restless."

"I know. I just. I'm worried with how you'll adjust." Walter was leaning back on her bed, admiring the way she had decorated her room, certainly having made it into her safe space.

Nikita knew her father meant how she would adjust since Detective Hirst ruined her public image without even having to use the words 'suicidal". She brought her knees up to her chest, and allowing her head to lean on her father's shoulders. The feel of Walter's shoulders tensing before relaxing again brought a small smile to her face. God, he was so awkward when it came to parenting.

"I'll have to put on my big girl pants and face the people eventually. Plus it's Beacon Hills, i'm sure some scandal will come around and take the spotlight."

* * *

The big girl pants were more like opaque black big girl tights. And she was far from fine.

Lydia sat happily in her Volkswagen Beetle, busily reapplying her cherry lip gloss. Nikita on the other hand sat anxiously in the passenger seat, the two of them at the school parking lot. Students were already staring at them from the front steps of the school, whispering to one another. Nikita and Lydia would be the two most notorious girls at school, having both 'uneventful' nights at the Winter Formal. There was also the fact that Nikita and Lydia had patched their friendship, one wouldn't expect either of them to grab for the olive branch after how things went down between them. But they were just two girls, who had gone through a lifetime full of trauma in just a couple of nights. Neither of them caring for who was dating who, silly weightless words that they might have thrown at each other. When looking at the big picture, their fight was so miniscule with what the two of them had recently gone through.

"Let's get this over with." Nikita groaned, opening the car door, not at all ready to face the day.

Perhaps she was overthinking things, she tend to do that often. Nikita looked to Lydia who once again exuded all the world's confidence, walking one perfect suede pink heel in front the other like the world was her runway.

"Just keep walking." Lydia assured her "They're only looking at us because guys want us...girls want us or want to be us."

How far Lydia was from the truth was borderline comical, because the curious stares of their classmates were heavier than a bundle of rocks weighing on Nikita's shoulders. The hallway was full of them, people gawking at her and Lydia, the silence starting to grate at her ears. She wanted sound, noise, even the irritating hiss of static from the old fluorescents. anything was better than this.

Luck seemed to be on her side, Jonesy only a few feet away from her locker. There he was in his white Levi's shirt and denim jacket, his hair much like usual...an unkempt mess that only he could pull off. She wore a matching grin to his, Jonesy's smile always so contagious, he just knew how to brighten a room with little effort. In one hand he held a starbucks coffee, in the other an aster flower, with vibrant lavender petals. He must have plucked it from the front lawn of the school.

Lydia breezed past him -perhaps looking for her boyfriend, Jackson- muttering a quick thank you and grabbing the coffee out of Jonesy's hand. He blinked wide, thrown off guard, shaking his head and even admiring Lydia as she walked off. Nikita approached him, her fingers gripping around the strap of her shoulder bag.

His full lips tugged to the side, slowly shaking his head. "That coffee was actually meant for you, and the flower was meant for Lydia…."

Nikita let out a snort of laughter when Jonesy handed her the flower instead, gladly accepting his gift, not expecting anything in the first place.

"Thanks. You're so sweet." She said with her dimpled smile, placing the flower behind her ear, showing off her new accessory.

"Welcome back, Nikita, you've been missed."

His words sparked a sudden giddiness in Nikita, and she found her arms wrapped around him, pulling him in for a hug, the side of her face resting against his chest. Jonesy gladly hugged Nikita back, holding her there for a moment and letting her take in the embrace. It was then, She decided that tall boys give the best hugs.

"You really missed me?" Her smile had yet to fade even when she pulled away from the hug.

Jonesy nodded. "It's been pretty bleak without you here. Jackson's ego looms over the school like a dark cloud, I think you need to check him again." He nudges her rib with his elbow. "But make sure i'm there to record it, please?"

Without even asking Jonesy grabbed her book bag for her, slinging it over his own shoulder, and the two walked towards her locker. She could still feel the stares on her, but Nikita pretended it was everyone looking at Jonesy, the tallest kid in school holding onto a bag so non-chalantly. He didn't mind at all, his vibrant eyes on Nikita, and not the sneering classmates surrounding them.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Believe it or not i'm not really in the business of punching people anymore. It's the end of an era, my friend." Her fingers going to the back of her head, feeling the rough bumps of her sutures, the urge to sit there and pick at her scabs eating away at her.

Jonesy gently grabbed her hand, forcing her away from the stitches, and ever carefully turned her around so he was facing the back of her head. At first she felt uncomfortable and odd with him wanting to look at her stitches. They made her feel so ugly, insecure, and brought her shame. But of all people, Jonesy was more than likely to understand, and not judge. She could feel his rough fingers -calloused from playing guitar- placed over the back of her neck, so that she was looking down at the floor. An icy chill danced from the base of her neck all the way down her spine when he came to move a part of her hair -which she used carefully to disguise her wound- revealing the stitches. Jonesy let out a hum, inspecting her injuries just like his father Doctor Brody Jones would do.

"Dissolvable stitches."

"My stitches can dissolve?" Nikita impressed with the world of science and medicine, a world which she knew little about.

"They're actually made of a sort of sugar, the enzymes in your body start to break them down when your healing process come to an end. They would dissolve faster if you stopped picking at them." Jonesy warned, letting go of her neck. "This will probably take you a minimum of three weeks."

She let out a puff of air, chestnut hair flying and falling back onto her face, knowing he was right.

"It's just a bad habit."

Jonesy pressed his back against a locker next to hers, one foot against the metal, the other firmly planted onto the ground. He was busy shaking her purse, trying to guess what could possibly make it so heavy.

"So, my band, Lugosi. We're opening for another band at the abandoned distillery next week." Jonesy started while Nikita worked on her locker combination. He sounded rather nervous which was something she had never seen before, Nikita attributing it to the fact that his band was playing a larger venue than they were used to.

"And you know, you have good taste in music. Which is a lot coming from me because i'm what some people would classify as a music snob. Although honestly that's up for debate."

She let out a laugh. " Jonesy, you wrote a heated debate on Brand New versus Taking Back Sunday for English class, when we were asked to write about rivalries found in the books we've-"

Nikita's sentence stopped abruptly, brows met upon opening her locker. Stuffed through the grate of her locker was a blue brochure, perhaps all the students were getting one. She flipped it over to the front to see the image of smiling teenagers holding pots of flowers, all wearing grey uniforms. Splayed across the top were the words "Eichen House, Wellness and Health Facility." Pinpricks of heat rose to the surface of her cheeks, resting just beneath her eyes. She read the front of the brochure over and over again, unsure if she was seeing this correctly. Her stomach was lurching now, nausea brewing in the pit, and her hands began to shake. Nikita turned to look side to side, to see if she could spot the culprit, trying her best to look unbothered. The snickers behind her confirmed her suspicions; a cruel prank that crossed the line.

Jonesy's shadow fell upon her when he grabbed the brochure with impatience, crumbling it within his grips as soon as he read it. The two of them turned to look over their shoulders, four members of the basketball team had gathered. They stood around laughing over the expense of Nikita's hurt. All of them tall, clad in their red Lettermen jackets. However, none was taller than Jonesy.

His fingers ran through his dark hair with impatience, Jonesy looking at their hyena like laughs and the clear hurt on Nikita's face. It had struck a chord within him, his always calm demeanor crashing around everyone's feet.

"Hold this." Jonesy muttered, shoving Nikita's purse back into her hands.

Not only did Nikita's eyes fly open, but so did the group of jocks when Jonesy approached them. He went after the bigger one of the four, shoving him right against the locker.

"What's your problem Jonesy!?" The one pinned against the locker looking red faced and visibly upset. "It was only a joke!"

Jonesy had his shirt bunched up in his grips now, no one in the hall did a thing to intervene. All were like terrified sheep, waiting, watching. Nikita, much like all of them, could only look on from where she stood, completely thrown off by this side of Jonesy; he was always such a gentle giant...no one could have guessed there was any sort of hostility within him.

"I don't think it's funny! And neither does she!"

"Ever stop and think that maybe you're just too sensitive? You've gotten soft, Jonesy. Is that one of the repercussions of-"

Jonesy didn't even let him finish his sentence, not liking where it was going. Nikita watched as her friend quickly lifted the jock by the collar of his shirt and dunked him head first into the garbage can, his legs sticking out and kicking. None of his friends stuck around, all of them scattered at Jonesy's wild display.

Her hands came to cover her mouth, which hung wide open and slowly turned into a giant grin. She had never, in all her life, seen anyone stick up for her like that, nor had she dealt with a situation much like this one. Jonesy stared down every face in the hall, his dark unruly brows coming together to deepen into a frown line, she wasn't even aware he had frown lines to begin with. The morning bell went off right there, and everyone scattered like ants out of their marching line, no one attempting to help the idiot kicking and wailing in the bright blue garbage can. At least he was where he belonged.

Jonesy approached Nikita, looking much calmer now and brushing off his shoulder.

"I'm really sorry for that display of aggression, I didn't mean for you to see me like that, or put you in such an awkward position." His hand coming to rub the back of his neck, his blue eyes swirling with empathy.

Nikita let out a sigh of admiration, if only there were more people like Jonesy out there standing up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves. Nikita knew right then how lucky she was to have a friend like him.

"It's fine, honestly." She tucked a strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear and grabbed her books for first period, it's so terribly difficult to keep a straight face.

His face scrunches at the nose. "I went too far...didn't I." Jonesy feeling rather ashamed, looking like a wounded puppy.

"No, no!" Nikita began, not wanting him to feel sorry, for Jeremy truly deserved it-

At this point Jonesy started to walk back to the trashcan. "Sorry, Jeremy." He mumbled unenthusiastically. With a kick to the can it tipped over, releasing Jeremy who crawled out frantically, his jacket sullied with milk and trash.

Nikita sucks in the air between her teeth, waiting for Jeremy to go off on Jonesy. But instead he took off running down the hall, the squeak of his sneakers echoing throughout. Nikita really wanted to laugh at the moment, but she found herself still deeply wounded. Instead she forced a smile.

Jonesy gave her a wide grin, happy he can get her smiling already. "C'mon, we're going to be late to class!"

* * *

-Stiles' POV-

He really wanted to be there for when Nikita got back to school, wanted to carry her bag and her books, make sure everything was going perfectly fine for her. Stiles wanted to give Nikita normalcy more than anything knowing it was lacking in her life. He would give anything to have a normal life again, and knowing Scott all too well...he knows his friend wishes the same.

Things were starting to get bad again.

Derek had turned two students into Werewolves, Erica Reyes and Isaac Lahey. From what he's gathered just by eavesdropping on his father's conversations with the office...Isaac's father was found dead in the middle of the street. Seeing how Isaac was a minor without a guardian, it was impossible to put him in jail. On top of that, there was no evidence of Isaac having anything to do with the death, the detective assuming it was yet...another god-damn animal attack.

The stupidity of Derek was baffling at times, but what was even more baffling was their new Principal...Gerard Argent, the Argent patriarch. He could see the stress wearing Scott thin, as he sat at his desk next to Stiles. There were bite marks all over the Beta's pencil, or perhaps that was a werewolf teething thing, like a puppy chewing on a shoe.

Keeping Isaac and Erica a secret from Gerard was going to be hard.

Keeping Allison and Scott's secret relationship from Gerard was going to be even harder.

Stiles perked up from his seat upon seeing Nikita's gorgeous face. Just seeing her made Stiles forget his stress for a moment. She was a breath of fresh air, the perfect distraction from his chaotic life. Her perfect smile lit up the room like it always did, her smile was directed right at him, Stiles smiled back, how could he not? However it almost dropped as soon as Jonesy entered right behind her. Stiles shook it off as Nikita took the empty seat in front of him, the tall wrestler forced to take a seat on the other side of class. Lydia already in her seat in front of Nikita.

"Hey." Stiles leaning forward so he was close to her shoulder now. From there he could smell the gorgeous scent of her jasmine scented perfume. Warmth spread from his heart to radiate throughout his body, it was like he was getting drunk off her scent alone.

"Hey." Nikita turned sideways so she could look at him, not at all thrown off by how close Stiles was to her. That single dimple he loved so much surfacing for a second before dissolving. He could tell her first day back wasn't easy, he had suspected that much.

"Ever been ice skating before?" Stiles resting his chin casually on his arms, looking up at her. He could feel nerves eating away inside his stomach, he had never asked a girl out before.

Nikita's eyebrows danced up, and the dimple was back."Not since I was a kid, whys that?"

Stiles took in a breath, ready to take the plunge."I was thinking, that maybe...you and I could go? You know, like we can make it a thing? Scott and Allison can join us."

"Hmm, a thing? What kind of a thing?" Her up to no good smile driving Stiles wild in his seat, if only she knew what her smiles did to him.

"Yeah, like...like a-" Stiles was finding it hard to actually say the word. "Like a social and or romantic appointment of sorts, where uhm we enjoy each other's company...socially or romantically. Preferably romantically, because i'm sure we both know I like you...a lot."

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Nikita's voice growing high with her full grin.

Stiles was starting to squirm in his seat with excitement. Her vibrant energy giving him the confidence he needed. Even Scott was watching with a smile.

"Y-Yes…" Stiles started. "Would you be opposed to some..hand holding?"

Nikita's took a moment to think, purposely darting her eyes side to side, teasing Stiles before giving him an answer.

"I think I would like that very much."

"Can we maybe fast forward it to...some kissing? Maybe some heavy petting, perhaps under the shirt?" Stiles sucking in the air between his gritted smile, he knew it was a shot in the dark, but he was willing to take it.

Nikita snorted her laugh, slapping the face of his desk. "Yeah, if only you were so lucky, Stilinski"

"Dammit." He muttered under his breath, accepting his loss. Nikita turning around to face the front, their teacher walking into class.

Scott poked at his arm with the eraser end of his pencil, catching Stiles' attention. "Hey, you're an idiot." His friend giving him a sheepish grin.

Nikita turned around once more to look at Stiles "On second thought...Maybe over the shirt." And with that she turned to the front again.

Scott and Stiles looked to each other with wide eyes and wide mouths, Stiles swore his heart fell out of his butt in that moment. His fingers had curled intensely around Scott's arm, nails digging in, holding onto his buddy like he could possibly steady Stiles from passing out in his seat. Class had started and Stiles couldn't focus for even a second. Instead he sat admiring the back of Nikita's precious head. He decided that he really loved the way her loose waves pointed in different directions, the way she would tuck her hair behind her ears when she was trying to concentrate. Stiles couldn't help but to already daydream about their date. He would make sure to put her foot in his lap and lace her skates, she would find that cute.

His eyes darted past Nikita for a brief moment to notice Lydia. Stiles' eyes narrowed on the redhead's hands, watching as it shook and curled tight over the edge of the seat. Her knuckles were white to the bone, tense head to toe.

Stiles opened his mouth to whisper her name when all the sudden it happened.

It felt like a thousand micro needles scraping along his ear drum when Lydia let out a scream. Everyone in the room quickly brought their hands to cover their ears, including Stiles. He could see Scott, crying out in pain and covering his ears, a flicker of yellow appeared behind his dark eyes. The Beta's senses were so much more intense and fragile, he couldn't bare to be in the classroom.

When it stopped the class was met with absolute silence, everyone much too startled to move. The only thing Stiles could hear was the shrill ring of the aftermath in his ear.

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

The silver spoon dug into the carton of triple fudge ice cream as Nikita sunk deeper into the couch. She would sit here for as long as she liked, until the couch began to mold around her ass if that's what it took. There was no way Nikita was going back to Beacon Hills High. School had been rougher than she wanted to admit, with all the judgemental stares, Lydia's horrific meltdown, and that stupid Eichen House Brochure. Even though Stiles was a ray of sunshine on her craptastic cloudy day..it simply wasn't enough. There was nothing she wanted to do, other than mope around and binge watch Top Chef while wearing her favorite oversized blue flannel. She didn't care to take a shower when she got back, even after her track and field practice. She didn't care to brush her hair either as it sat atop her head in birds nest of a bun. Nikita was much too defeated to even care at this point. Even when chocolate ice cream dribbled off the end of her spoon to fall on her sleeve.

Her father sat at the dinner table, stealing glances from the top of the newspaper he was reading. Nikita out of the headlines for once.

"Maybe you should stop assaulting the ice cream? Go out for a bit?" Her father suggested, still trying to sound chipper.

Nikita didn't even bother to respond to him, instead she stabbed her spoon into the ice cream, taking a moment to roll to the side only to pick an unpleasant wedgie.

The doorbell rang, and Nikita narrowed her eyes towards the front of the house, then to land back on Walter.

"What have you done, old man?"

"...I called for reinforcements"

She shook her head in disappointment, her gaze boring into Walter."That's fine, i'm not answering the door-"

"Oh my god, Niki what the hell are you wearing? Is that plaid?"

Danny's voice caused Nikita to almost jump out of her seat, he had sneakily entered through the backdoor without so much of a sound. He walked towards her, his face twisted with slight disgust.

She shot a scowl right back at him, feeling the need to defend her outfit of choice. "What do you have against plaid?"

"Did you find your outfit in the lost and found? Or in Greenberg's closet?"

Nikita would roll her eyes at a comment like that, but she was completely shameless at the moment as she shoved more ice cream in her face and returned her attention to the T.V. The contestants were about to make an amuse bouche out of canned foods and Danny was in the way of that. Her friend let out a sigh as he gave Walter a deeply empathetic look.

"This is worse than I thought, i'm going to need backup." Danny sounding like he was out of the S.W.A.T division.

Nikita pointed threateningly to Danny with her spoon. "I swear if you text Lydia."

He only let out a laugh, finding a Bambi looking girl of 5'5 to be no threat. Danny reached into his pocket, keeping his hand there.

"Are you- Are you texting from your pocket?" Nikita's inquisitive stare glued onto Danny, Walter enjoying this show from where he sat.

"...No."

It took not even a split second for Lydia to text Nikita. Nikita rolled her head back giving the world's most dramatic groan known to man.

"I'm not going to let you feel sorry for yourself, on my way NOW." With a little kissy face emoji, only Lydia used that emoji.

"Thanks, Brutus." Nikita throwing a venomous look towards Danny, disappointed to see she was finally out of ice cream.

"We're going out. And you're getting dressed." Danny declared, grabbing at the ice cream carton, Nikita's foot came to his chest, keeping him away and quickly scooping the last heavenly bit of ice cream.

* * *

Danny was right, a little trip to the mall was all she needed for a little pick me up. Getting out of her sweats was a good idea. Although it worried her how Lydia seemed to have brushed off the day, it's like she had forgotten how she had broken down in front of the entire class only a few hours ago. Nikita said nothing about it, Danny didn't even bring it up. It seemed to be a common thing in Beacon Hills, how people always brushed their problems under the rug.

Nikita allowed it all to roll of her shoulders, for now at least. She even bought herself a baby blue Instax polaroid camera, her and Danny having all the world's fun taking selfies while Lydia tried on a hoard of dresses at Forever 21.

"Lyyydia, how much longer?" Danny whined from where they sat, just outside the waiting room.

The two of them started bickering back and forth, Nikita excusing herself to walk around and take pictures. Now that she was a fully committed photographer, she was going to go take as many artsy aesthetic shots as possible. In reality, Nikita was god awful when it came to taking photographs. Everything was off center, the lighting was terrible, thank goodness her talents were in drawing. Nikita wandered out of the store, entering the outside portion of the outdoor mall. Her attention was off, taking photos of planters, mall people, the merry-go-round below her on the first floor.

Nikita's elbows rested against the glass rail guard as she peered below. It was through the camera's lens when she spotted the most peculiar thing. Amongst the sea of shoppers was one man clad in a leather jacket. It was the words that really popped out, the white scribbled letters that formed the word 'HATE'. There was something intriguing about him apart from his jacket, it was the stillness in his body, it was the way only his head would move; to watch the everyday people around him. Everyone went on with their daily business, except for him, he seemed frozen in time, or completely out of place.

He sat on a bench and she could finally see the side of his face.

Carefully she took a picture of him, capturing what little she could see of him. The film rolled out of the camera, Niki held the polaroid between her thumb and index finger as it slowly developed; revealing a handsome man with a contempt expression on his face. His strong jaw structure could rival Derek's, sandy light hair caught between a rare shade of brown and blonde, you don't see on most people. The stranger was pretty handsome, and looked like the kind who knew it. Her gaze remained on the polaroid which was now crisp and clear. Her eyes traveled south to see him staring right at her, she could only stare back like a deer caught in the headlights. There was no way he hadn't caught her taking a photo, judging by the slight smile that tugged the corner of his lips. Nikita turned around at once, completely thrown off and humiliated.

"Who...is that?" Danny had startled her when he snatched the polaroid out of her hand. "Mmm. Now I see why you wanted one of those cameras."

Nikita could feel the heat of a rosy flush sweeping across her cheeks as Danny admired the photo.

Lydia had joined only seconds later with her shopping bags occupying both her hands. "Please tell me he's here." She said upon laying her eyes on the polaroid.

"You have a boyfriend, remember Jackson?"

"Huh." Was all Lydia said as both her and Danny craned their necks over the rail guard to look down below. Nikita didn't need to turn around to know he was still there. She snatched the polaroid back and loosely tucked it in the waistband of her jeans, not even bothering with the pockets.

"We get it, Nikita, you found him first. What a fine piece of art. Hello Mr. Hottie." Danny said in a dreamy like voice, still checking him out.

Nikita didn't even have a moment to protest when Lydia huffed off and went towards the escalators, Danny following suit. Her eyes flew open, the brash redhead was going to approach the handsome man downstairs. Nikita quickly stuffed her camera in her purse and ran after her friends who were already halfway down. He must have moved, for he wasn't where they had last seen him.

The three of them crossed the mall, edging towards where he was only moments ago.

"Niki?"

She turned at the sound of her name to see Jonesy there, smoothie in his hand and hopeful smile on his friendly face.

I'm glad to see you're not feeling down, after what happened today."

Before she could respond an older short blonde woman approached them. Her burnt honey spun hair cascaded in loose curls past her shoulders, modelesque hips swaying side to side in a tight floral print pencil skirt. Her jade eyes widened with delight when they landed on Nikita.

"Oh my GOODNESS! You must be Nikita Grace!" Her whole body shook with excitement and her subtle southern accent took Nikita by surprise, more so than the woman knowing Nikita in the first place.

"I'm Olivia Jones, Jonesy's mother! Look at you, you look just like your father!" Her hands coming to cover her gracious smile, with perfectly manicured nails.

Nikita could hear both Danny and Lydia snickering behind her, she hated being compared to her father in any way.

"Nice to meet you." And it was, Nikita already knowing so much about Olivia just by stepping into her home.

"Wow, you're so stunning." Olivia taking a moment to admire her, her hand flattening any wrinkles from her pencil skirt. She turned to look at Jonesy. "Isn't she?"

Nikita smiled watching Jonesy squirm under the spot, his body shifting side to side, mumbling a barely audible 'yes.'

"You and your father need to come over for dinner some time soon. Let me know what your favorite meal is and I'll be happy to make it!" Olivia's head whipped side to side, clearly looking for someone "Alex, get over here and meet Dr. Jones' daughter!"

Her breath caught in the back of her throat as 'Mr. Hottie' approached them. Suddenly it became clear…'Mr. Hottie' was Jonesy's older brother, the one she had seen childhood photos of. Jonesy always spoke so highly of him, like one admiring their favorite superhero. She felt Lydia's nails digging in her arms, all three of them found him to be even more attractive up close. It was his perfectly structured face, his thick lashes, his pretty boy smile, that sharp jaw line,the sandy brown hair that fell just above the pure blue eyes. He approached them and extended out his hand towards her, the light cobalt shirt he wore beneath his leather jacket matched his eyes so perfectly. ...It was like staring into an arctic lake.

Nikita stood slack jawed as she looked at his hand, still waiting on a shake. A smirk spread across his lips as he arched his right eyebrow, a silent way of asking "are you going to shake my hand?"

She put her hand into his, giving it a much too firm shake. "I'm N-Ni-"

"Nikita Grace?" He interrupted, his lips pulling thin for a moment. "Yeah I've heard of you, I think this entire town has heard of you."

"Great." she thought to herself. "Even he thinks i'm a freak." with that she recoiled her hand out of his.

Olivia's phone went off right then and she excused herself. She seemed like a busy woman running her own business.

"So guys, I have a concert coming up, I hope all of you can come." Jonesy's effort wasn't good enough as Danny, Lydia, and Nikita were still in awe with Alex. It wasn't his good looks that had captivated Nikita, it was his bold confidence. She had never met anyone with so much back bone, and he had only muttered a few words. He exuded dominance, perhaps it was his body language. Alex stood there with his arms crossed, his shoulders square, bored expression painted deeply onto his face.

Jonesy's face suddenly came into Nikita's view, literally standing in front of Alex so all attention was on him. The sudden sight of face, a face much too close and out of nowhere caused her to jump and snap back to reality.

"What the F?" The annoyed younger sibling mouthed as his eyes narrowed on them.

Jonesy looked beyond peeved as he impatiently tugged Alex's arm. "We're gonna go now."

Still the three teenagers looked at Alex like he was a Greek God carved out of gold. His strong brows stitched together. He had grown impatient with the three teenagers gawking shamelessly at him.

Alex approached closer to Nikita, and she could hear Danny squeal with excitement behind her. Never had she heard Danny emit such a sound of excitement, and to be honest it was starting to rub off on her as well. Such an attractive person approaching Nikita was out of the ordinary. She was nothing like Lydia who had gaggles of boys after her, most of the college aged. Nikita's feet felt like they were stuck in cement as he drew near, she didn't dare take a step back, his gaze literally holding her in place.

"I would say take a picture, It'll last longer." He said with a nod of his head, his dimples appearing with a dazzling smile.

Nikita didn't have time to react as he swiftly pulled out the polaroid from her front of her waistband. Humiliation struck her and how she wished it was lightning that struck her instead. Nikita's mouth fell open, making things worse when she couldn't even form a word.

"But it looks like you already have." Alex finished.

Lydia and Danny let out an audible gasp as Nikita's cheeks flushed a beet red.

With a wink he tore the photo to pieces, letting them carelessly litter around Nikita's feet. She could only blink as he began to turn on his heels.

"Take care kids." He said while throwing a lazy wave over his shoulder.

She had been fooled by a pretty face, he was not as angelic as he looked to be. In fact, he was a bit of an asshole. Nikita was still left dumbfounded, in recovery of her utter humiliation, but Alex's shit demeanor had made it so much worse. Humiliation had dissolved into annoyance.

The two brother's left them, as soon as they were out of sight Lydia let go of Nikita's arm with a squeal "He's so fine!"

Nikita stood frozen, still unsure of what happened. "He's kind of condescending…"

"Please take me to that dinner party with you." Lydia begged, the widest grin on her face.

"The Jones brothers can both get it, damn." Danny watching the nice view of Alex walking out of their sights.

"He called us kids...That bastard" Nikita seethed, still in disbelief she was so swept up in how opposite Alex and Jonesy are, like day and night. The younger brother was so full of life and light, while a rain cloud seemed to hang over the older one. Regardless of her thoughts and opinions on Alex Jones, she would hope to not run into him again.

* * *

Hope you guys enjoyed it! Please leave me love and let me know what you thought :]


	22. Chapter 22

Hey everyone. Thank you to the few of you who were kind enough to leave me a review last time: Itbelongsinamuseum, Ferallahey, Recklessyouthinme, and thewailingwolf25. You guys are fucking awesome. Even though I got very little feedback on the last chapter, your positive and encouraging reviews mean so much to me. Fingers crossed for more feedback!

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Shoutout to those of you who put up with my writing antics.

* * *

 _There he was._

 _Her angel, so perfect, so beautiful as he stood above her. Even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was sent from the heavens, sent to protect her. Perhaps to lead her into the next stage of life. Night after night she dreamt of this, to the point where she was no longer afraid. The halo that sat atop his head brought her so much solace in her final moments, the pain she felt starting to dull ever so slightly. Everything was broken, Nikita immobile, but she tried so hard to raise her hand so she could touch the heavenly entity before her. She wanted to see his face so badly, but was only greeted with his silhouette, a blinding light hanging above them._

 _Her eyes slowly closed when his hand came to brush a strand of sweat plastered hair out of her face. Relishing the touch of the gods themselves._

 _And he asked… "Are you scared, Nikita Grace?"_

' _No.' She wanted to say, but finding it hard to speak even with the blood that coated the back of her throat. So she opened her eyes and shook her head. She wasn't scared, not anymore. Just tired._

 _Her head lolled side to side. The room spinning around her so suddenly._

 _Just then his hand came to clamp over her mouth and nostrils. Nikita's eyes shot wide. He had a firm grip over her, easily obstructing her airways. Her lungs squeezed and constricted in attempt to expand with air. Nikita's body convulsed while putting up one last fight, struggling to breathe._

Nikita shot up from her bed, horrified and panting. Her fingers frantically searched to pull her sheets over her body and protect her from the morning chill. She blinked wildly while taking in her surroundings.

She was not in her bedroom.

She had woken in the middle of the woods.

A shaken gasp escaped her to turn into a plume of sheer fog. The sweat running down her back and beading at her forehead offered a sharp contrast of warmth against her cold skin. The morning birds had just begun their songs, a frantic symphony. The sky from which she could see through the leafy canopy above her was painted in dreamy hues of pinks, purples, and greys. It was early in the morning. Dark clouds began to roll in, bringing drizzle with them. She happened to steal a glance over her shoulder.

Tight was the rope like knot that settled in the pit of her belly when she saw it. She could taste blood and bile in the back of her throat, even though she wasn't bleeding, even though she hadn't thrown up. It was on instinct upon seeing the Hill from which she fell. Nikita had woken at the base of Suicide Hill, woken in what she assumed was the same spot she landed when she made impact.

Nikita got up at once as soon as she processed her surroundings, flinching at the feel of wet slimey earth and rotted leaves beneath her bare feet. The white silky pajamas she wore now dirtied from grime and mud, wet leaves stuck to her back. She had frozen in place, haunted mossy green eyes transfixed onto the height from which she fell. From this below it didn't look like that tall of a height, but it had damaged her all the same. As if on instinct her fingers were playing at the sutures on the back of her head, nails picking at the scabs that were trying to heal.

Tears began to obscure her line of vision, her anger a smoldering fire wanting to burn that Hill down, crumble it to dust; it had been the cause of all her current problems. The Urban legends of Suicide Hill, even the Ghost of Cora Hale was no more. The terrifying tales now besmirched by the story of a lonely girl who had attempted to take her life by jumping, and failed.

This was all too much.

She had broken into a run, the cold drizzle darting against her face, and the surrounding woods began to blur into a grey. This feeling, this sensation, much like a deja vu; a frightening familiarity she couldn't seem to grasp nor could she shake off. Nikita didn't have time to stop and dwell on this, or understand how she got here in the first place. All she knew was that she wanted to get as far as she could from Suicide Hill.

Paranoia had crept along her spine to taint her thoughts, Nikita couldn't help but to whip her head side to side, as if she was escaping something that was coming after her. Perhaps a monster chasing her from between the trees, yet there was nothing.

Bare feet pounded into the raw cold earth to the rhythm of her staccato heart. Nikita navigating her way out of the woods through the rain. The peaceful preserves she once thought of as an escape of the outside world now ruined. There was nothing in these woods now, only her fears. Nikita's breath grew heavier to generously mist into the air, she was completely winded by the time she reached a main road. Her feet came to wet pavement now, Nikita standing at the edge of the road trying to decide where to go from here.

She was already soaked from the rain when a white Maserati zoomed right past her, treading over an enormous puddle. She let out a scream when the dirty water splashed back onto her, drenching her from head to toe. Both her pajamas and hair were plastered to her body, the cold seeping into her bones. Nikita's mouth hung open, suspended in awe as she watched the white sports car come to a halt with a sharp screech. The car sat there at the end of the road for a moment, white fog spiraling out of the exhaust pipe. Nikita blinked a few times, confused as to what the driver was doing. Had the driver even seen her? Her arms came to wrap around herself, the only way to keep warm. Her teeth began to chatter together.

"What the fuck." She whispered to herself when the white sports car shifted into reverse. The car backed up in an alarming pace, running over the same puddle and sending another wave of dirt water onto Nikita. She let out a frustrated cry, spitting out the bitter and salty taste of grit from her mouth.

The window of the passenger side rolled down to reveal the driver. Jonesy's brother sat inside, wearing a half buttoned white dress shirt, red lipstick marks decorating the side of his neck and collar. His hair looked to be a mess, like someone had just ran their fingers through it. It was odd seeing him so shambled compared to the crisp clean look he had on the day before.

"What are you doing out here?" He inquired with wide eyes, looking like he had seen a ghost girl, or perhaps put off by her disheveled appearance.

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, trying to find a way to explain this. How could she possibly explain this? Well it was simple. Nikita went to bed in her own room, and when she woke up, she woke in the middle of the woods….which was not her room. But it wasn't so simple, more importantly it wasn't believable. He would think her crazy like the rest of the town. Her contorted and confused facial expressions only seemed to add more to her heathen-esque aesthetic as Nikita tried to work some viable explanation in her head.

"...Are you always like this?" Alex inquired once more, making her sound like a burden to society.

Nikita was stumped for an answer. She figured when one found a teenage girl at the edge of the woods, clearly lost and out of place, they would offer comfort. But Alex wasn't most people, and he couldn't give two shits over comfort.

"I-I don't know." It was an honest answer, all she could offer Alex at the moment. Her dirty fingers threaded through her hair, pulling out the dead leaves that had tangled themselves in her chestnut tresses. A weak attempt to make herself look more presentable. Nikita's gaze fell to her bare feet, they were crusted in mud up to her ankles.

She could hear Alex suck in his breath through his teeth, a soft "ew" coming from his direction. It seemed as if humiliation was endless and unavoidable when she was in Alex's presence.

Her head perked up when she heard the click of his car unlocking, a wordless invitation. Nikita held his gaze for a moment with a curious hitched brow, had he actually meant to invite her inside his car?

"Are you just going to stand there in hopes of a psycho killer picking you up? Nothing really surprises me in this town."

Once again she wasn't sure how to answer. "Uhm…"

"It was a rhetorical question, Nikita. No need to kill the excitement and momentum. Jesus-fuck, get in the car. "

Nikita opened the car door at once and hopped inside, she was greeted by the warm blast of the car heater and the subtle scent of lingering cigarette smoke. Alex had pulled down the sun visor to peer into the mirror, his fingers working at buttoning his shirt all the way up to the collar, then attempting to wipe off the lipstick marks off the side of his perfectly shaven face. It was obvious he had treated himself to an early morning delight. Nikita cringed at the sight of him, It was a shame that such a handsome face was attached to the shittiest of personalities.

Alex groaned something about how hard it is to remove lipstick stains from clothes. His fingers now attempting to defluff his sandy hair. "Check the glove compartment for a brush."

It was more of a command than a polite way of asking, but Nikita wasn't about to press her luck with him. She was just grateful he was giving her a ride. She opened the glove compartment, fishing in there for a brush, instead she recoiled her hand faster than she could blink. In her clutches was a pair of lace nude underwear.

Nikita let out a scream, flapping her hands, the panties arcing into the air and landing perfectly in Alex's lap. Her reaction eliciting a delighted chuckle from him.

"I swear." Alex sighed longingly, reflecting fondly of his previous lays. " There is something so alluring, sensual, and understated about a simple pair of lacey nude-"

"-Why do you keep underwear in your glove compartment!?" Nikita cutting right into Alex's passionate public service announcement on the beauty of nude lace underwear. Who the hell holds onto underwear like a trophy?

Alex blinked a few times before shooting her a deadpanned gaze. "Why the hell were you walking through the woods in your princess jammies?" He waited for an answer, before deciding he didn't really care much for one in the first place.

"Forget it, just give me your address."

He had stumped her right there...again. Nikita still hadn't formed an answer or a lie. She muttered her address, annoyance dripping with each word.

The wet and miserable teen crossed her arms over her chest and sunk into her seat, opting to look out the window rather than at Alex's stupid ugly face. She could feel his eyes on her now, looking her frame up and down, his stare burning into the back of her head. Nikita caught him looking in the reflection of the rain speckled window.

" They're not princess jammies." Nikita assured herself.

This time she turned suddenly, wet hair slapping the side of her face and sending droplets flying so Alex had to shield himself with his arm.

"And I'll have you know, I'm sixteen! So if you're thinking that you can just look at me like you're some deranged pervert who-"

She didn't even get to finish her sentence when Alex erupted into laughter, the kind where his hand came to slap the top of the steering wheel two times, the kind where he had to use the back of his hand to wipe the tears from his eyes. His laughter causing her to burn with embarrassment and frustration. Perhaps Nikita would fare better outside in the harsh conditions rather than with Alex.

" You're not my vintage, Jailbait. I'm more intrigued by the stitches on the back of your head than what you could possibly ever offer me from between your legs. No need to flatter yourself."

"What about my stitches!?" Nikita trying so hard to save face.

"I would recognize Brody's pattern any day. Meaning it wasn't my father who stitched you up. It was your own."

A crease formed between Nikita's eyebrows, softening when Alex's words resonated within her. She never thought of who had patched her back together, never thanked Walter.

Her body lurched back when Alex put the Maserati into drive. The car cut through the rain, the drive so smooth Nikita swore they were gliding across the blacktop. Soft music played, perfect for a rainy morning, but it did nothing to break the awkward silence. Neither of them spoke, Nikita annoyed she had to share his presence, wishing it was the younger nicer Jones brother who had found her. But of course, it had to be this asshole. Jonesy was probably already at school, getting ready for first period. She was going to be so late to school.

"So you're like smart, huh." Nikita daring to speak. Perhaps getting to know him would help thaw that terribly cold personality of his. Or perhaps it would help her move past that one time she made an ass out of herself assuming Alex was checking her out.

Alex let out a long sigh without taking his eyes off the road, bothered by where this was going already. He didn't seem like he enjoyed small talk very much.

"Depends on what moron you ask."

" Mr. Harris still talks about how you were his favorite student ever. I didn't think that man even had a soul. Weren't you like some child genius?"

"Weren't you,like, the girl that had all of Beacon Hills searching for her?"

Alex retorted in a sharp and bitter tone, yet managed to mock her words all the same. It seemed this discussion was off the table, Nikita must have found a sore spot

" You hear that Jailbait? That's the sweet sound of silence." Alex mocked in that gruff voice of his.

"Meaning you're over with asking me stupid questions. And look at that! We've arrived to your home!"

A sigh of relief escaped her upon seeing her home...that was a first. Nikita said a quick thanks and hopped out of the car, making sure to shut the door and give it a good rattle to piss off Alex. It worked, the acidic glare he was giving her only causing her to smile wide. He raced off as soon as she made her way towards the home.

What a shit morning.

* * *

-Jackson's POV-

It happened again.

This time he was in the middle of Chemistry with Mr. Harris. It was Danny who noticed the thick black secretion rolling out of Jackson's left nostril, giving him a soft nudge and pulling him out of his daydreams.

Jackson's fingers curled around the sink basin, finding himself in the bathroom yet again. His eyes carefully watched the tapping of blood spoiling the white porcelain. This wasn't right, this wasn't what Derek had promised him. He had asked for the bite in hopes of power, that even Scott Mccall couldn't rival with.

Where was that power? Where was that greatness? And more importantly where was Derek Hale?

Jackson grabbed a wad of paper towels out of the dispenser with shaky hands, first applying it to his sweaty forehead before pressing it against his nose, applying pressure until he was certain the bleeding had stopped. Next, he got rid of the soaked tissues in the toilet where no one could find evidence of Jackson's body breaking down on him.

He swallowed hard as the putrid secretion trickled down his throat, it tasted of bitterness and raw garbage. Jackson had to get out of the bathroom, play himself off as normal as he possibly could. It was harder than it sounded. He knew what he looked like, pale, shifty, like he had been smacked in the face by a shovel.

"Babeeeee" Lydia crooned sympathetically, she had been waiting outside the bathroom for him. Her soft face contorted in disgust upon his appearance.

Jackson leaned in to give her a kiss on the forehead, when she pressed her palm against his shoulder and pushed him away.

"I can't get sick." Lydia shook her head, strawberry blonde curls bouncing. "No, I can't afford the slightest imperfection on my attendance."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Lydia was supposed to be his girlfriend, she was supposed to take care of him when he was under the weather, make him soup, give him back rubs; that kind of stuff. It felt like a kick to the side when he was already down. Lydia was living in her deluded little world where she remained ignorant to the obvious. Like her little meltdown in class, Jackson looking and feeling like hell the past few days. She would do anything to clutch her red painted nails onto normalcy.

Jackson's jaw went slack as he watched his girlfriend saunter off down the school hall, blatantly choosing her academics over him. He took the blow to his ego rather hard, especially with what his body was going through.

"Are you kidding me!?" He shouted after her, but it fell deaf upon her ears.

People were staring at him. Jackson was used to getting stares, it came with popularity like a celebrity that comes with paparazzi. This was a different kind of staring, far from envy or admiration. It seemed people were cautious of him, no one wanted to talk to Jackson, no one wanted to even share their space with him, as if he were some lepar.

They were nothing to him, they meant nothing. Or at least that's what he told himself.

Jackson slid his back down a row of lockers, slumping to the ground. His head buried in his hands, making him feel even more vulnerable. He had sensed someone sitting next to him, immediately recognizing the presence from that horrid axe deodorant spray.

"I need to buy you proper cologne." Jackson's words muffled in his hands, his head finally coming to surface.

Jonesy was seated next to him on the floor, both knees drawn up to his chest, looking rather content. "I'm not ready to smell like I enjoy yachting in the Hamptons with a pastel cardigan tied around my neck. Or Yachting in general."

"Well we both know you're not too keen on water." Of course Jackson knew of Jonesy's secret, his lack of ability to swim, his fear of water. It was easy for the captain of the swim team to figure out when he had tried everything to get Jonesy into the water with him. Jonesy always paled over at the mere sight of a swimming pool, wouldn't even stand close to the edge of one, wouldn't even come watch him compete. Jackson could sense Jonesy's body language tensing upon him knowing, deciding it was best to change the subject.

" Or keen on any of my interests for that matter."

Jonesy's hand came to scratch the back of his head, that messy hair of his looked so tousled and touchable. "Maybe it's because you're sort of an asshole, but you don't need me to tell you that, do you?"

Jackson flashed his friend a smile, his dimples appearing, surprised when Jonesy smiled back. The wrestler's legs pulled away from his chest, getting comfortable near Jackson.

"I find it's better to be feared than to be loved."

"Then what's got you feeling so down?" Jonesy's head rolled over to the side, looking directly at Jackson now. Those eyes like an arctic ring still held a flicker of hope for Jackson, Jonesy being the only person who hadn't given up on him, not yet.

"Please tell me the reason for you being a downright prick isn't because you're struggling to figure….yourself out. You know you can talk to the school-"

"- That's not what it's about, Jonesy!" Jackson hadn't meant to snap so harshly at his friend. For someone who was so full of himself Jackson loathed talking about himself, he hated showing his vulnerabilities more than anything in the world. But this was Jonesy, if anyone could possibly understand him, it was Jonesy.

I wish my problems were as easy as me being attracted to men. It is, and it isn't. But it's not that simple." His words weren't exactly making sense.

"...Then what is it?"

"There's more to me than just my sexuality, Jonesy. Alright? I didn't lose sight of my identity when I started to question my sexuality, I started to question my identity the day I found out I was adopted."

Jonesy opened his mouth to speak when Jackson had cut him off.

" And before you say anything, yeah, I get it, you're adopted too. But your parents didn't lie to you about being adopted until you were thirteen, Jonesy. They didn't pose as your biological parents, they didn't spoonfeed you bullshit and lies."

Jonesy had the picturesque parents. His father was the most impressive chief surgeon at Beacon Hills Hospital, and his mother ran her own bakery. It didn't get more white picket fence than that. More importantly, they were a close family. Jackson had seen Olivia Jones volunteering for the PTA or the school bake sales, he had even seen Brody Jones -a god damn doctor- at a few of Jonesy's concerts. Unlike his own parents who couldn't spare a minute of their time for him.

" Now I can't grasp my sexual leanings, I always assumed I liked girls. and now I feel like I can't trust my own parents." Jackson admitted, trying so hard to hide the shakiness that lingered in his voice. He wasn't going to cry, not in front of Jonesy.

"The only thing I can do to retain self preservation and keep sane is to be good at things, to be the best at everything. That means Lacrosse, the swim team, my grades, my looks, my reputation. The best, the strongest, the greatest."

Jonesy shook his head, raking his fingers through his dark hair."You're going to burn yourself out, Jackson. Believe me, i've seen some of the brightest minds driven into the ground with all this pressure and perfectionism you place on yourself."

"I know what i'm doing, Jonesy.." His fingers brushed a stray jet strand out of Jonesy's vibrant eyes. Just touching him brought back all the feelings he tried so hard to rid himself of, for he could never have Jonesy, he had lost that opportunity.

"You and I are the same people. Striving for excellence, striving for what we want."

Annoyance flashed across Jonesy's features and he pulled away, the right corner of his lip curling up. Most people should have been flattered to even be considered in the same league as Jackson.

"We may both like boys and girls, we may both be adopted, we may both be captains of our respective teams. But you and I are nothing alike." Jonesy crossed his arms and placed his gaze on the water fountain, not even wanting to look at him.

"Are you sure about that?" Jackson elbowing Jonesy's arm." It seems we both had a fondness for Nikita. Mine in the past, and yours more... current." Jackson shot Jonesy an all knowing smile, relishing in his words and watching Jonesy panic internally.

"Dude, shut up." Jonesy pulling his yellow backpack to his chest.

He had to chuckle at Jonesy's bashfulness, he had never seen it before."You're so smitten, it's actually disgusting."

Jackson watched Jonesy's head roll back, tapping it against the locker a few times out of pure frustration and love-struck agony. It was so weird seeing Jonesy like this, he was always so calm and easy going. Somehow Nikita had managed to wedge her pretty self in the recesses of Jonesy's mind and short circuited his brain.

Jackson's shoulders shook with laughter. " You threw someone in the trash for her and risked expulsion. You're in deep. I can't help you buddy."

"She's just a friend!"

"Right." Jackson inspecting his nails for dirt. "And I'm a mediocre lacrosse player."

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

She arrived to school in time for fourth period with wet hair, having taken a shower before running off to school. Her grey sweater was starting to absorb her soaked hair, a wet patch sitting amongst her shoulders now. Nikita ran down the empty hall, the heels of her boots clicking rapidly against the floor. She was so late, late to her favorite class. With great haste she pulled out her art supplies, stuffing her sketchpad and charcoal pencils into her book bag.

A bright light had gone off beside her, the flash staggering her so she dropped her pencils to the floor. Nikita blinked widely, the red spots dancing behind her eyes starting to vanish. She was surprised to see Matt Daehler standing there, camera in hand.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He lowered the camera slowly, bending over to pick up one of her pencils.

Nikita's weary hand extended when Matt approached her, taking back her pencil with a kind smile. She wasn't a fan of having her picture taken, or being in photos. "It's okay, i'm just having a hectic morning."

She didn't really know Matt, only knew him because both he and Jonesy were in the yearbook club. Matt the photographer and Jonesy the chief editor.

"You're running late, but you look great." Matt giving her a kind smile, his compliment was kind, but not enough to get pull her out of her slump.

"Huh, that rhymed." Nikita keeping her voice low because it was such a dorky observation to make.

"Flattery will get you everywhere with me." She said aloud this time.

"Really?" Matt giving her a hopeful smile.

She let out a laugh, careful not to jeer at him."It's a figure of speech, Matt. Anyways I'll have to catch you later!"

Nikita ran down the hall and drew open the door to her art class, ignoring the stares and taking her seat between Allison and Lydia. It was a miracle no one had stopped her in the hall, the art teacher didn't even bother asking why Nikita was late. Of course Allison and Lydia both barraged her questions of her whereabouts. Lydia utterly disgusted that Nikita could show up to a school with wet hair.

She ignored them both, muttering a "I'm fine, I just slept through my alarm."

They couldn't know what really happened, she couldn't even grasp at what had happened earlier herself.

The first ten minutes of class was used to warm up, the students asked to sketch whatever they wished in their note pads before diving into their projects. Nikita loved this part of class, where she had freedom and let her creativity pour over. She allowed herself to tune out the stares, tune out the soft music playing in the background, and immerse herself in the sound of charcoal scratching against paper. This was another form of meditation for Nikita, the woods were much preferred...but now she found herself frightened of the place she once loved.

Allison rested her chin on Nikita's shoulder, giving her a squeeze from behind. The affection was appreciated, even with the stiffness between the two of them. Neither had dared to speak about Kate, about what Allison's aunt had done to Nikita's second family. It was such a tender subject for the two of them, and there was no way to go about it without someone crying over the matter.

"Nikita, maybe you should put down the pencil." Allison's voice lighter than a feather, as if not to startle her.

Nikita blinked hard at her sketchpad. It seemed she had checked out a little too heavily. Angry thick black lines had drawn a pair of heavy and harsh animalistic eyes, her pencil grounded down to dust. Her gaze remained transfixed at the bestial eyes staring back at her. Her hand flipped through the previous pages, coming across the same sort of image she had drawn only a month prior, the day after the animal attack in the video store. She flipped back and forth between the two images, both of them were of the same thing, those savage eyes, except this time she drew them with more ferocity.

The school speakers went off."Nikita Grace, to the Principal's office please."

Her entire art class turned to look at her, she had just gotten here! Mrs. Lindell, the art teacher cleared her throat, trying to get Nikita up and moving. A look of concern painted itself on Lydia's soft features for a moment before she shrugged her shoulders, assuming this little visit was nothing to worry about. But the way Allison was looking at her had Nikita feeling on edge, did Allison know something Nikita didn't?

"I'm sure it's fine." Allison offered her a dimpled smile, yet the hesitation was clear behind her doe eyes.

"Yeah...I'm sure." Nikita sounding less certain than her friend. This probably had to do with her skipping her morning classes. Yet again Nikita packed away her art materials, heading out of the classroom.

She was making her way down the hall when the door to the classroom beside her burst open, Scott and Stiles tumbling out before her. Nikita's face distorted in mass confusion.

"What are you guys doing?"

"Just got sent to the Principal's office with you." Stiles's hand coming to wrap around her waist, giving her a side hug. Just being in Stiles' presence made Nikita feel so much better. "I missed you this morning, where were you?"

"Slept through my alarm." Nikita repeating her practiced excuse. "What did you guys do to get detention?"

"Threw a spitball at Finnstock. Who knew he was so sensitive about these things." Scott lamented, a slight smile on his lips. Who knew Scott Mccall had the ability to speak?

"You didn't get detention because of me, did you?" She was feeling giddy now, forgetting her troubles, forgetting her unfortunate morning. The three of them walking to the office.

"Nah, not all." Stiles giving her a wink, his hand having yet to leave her waist.

The door to the Principal's office opened, signalling them inside, the three of them entered without hesitation. The first thing Nikita was greeted with was the new Principal's saccharine smile, that same general fakeness Kate would use on her. Her eyes landed on the copper name plate sitting on the edge of his desk.

Gerard Argent.

No wonder Allison was anxious before.

He was an elderly man with thinning white hair, dark eyes much similar to Allison herself. Clearly he was the Argent patriarch, possibly a scumbag himself. Nikita could feel Stiles' hand rubbing small circles on her lower back, a subtle and silent way to remind her that she wasn't here by herself.

"Well I've certainly never had three students in here before, please sit down."

Nikita sat down, the two boys on either side of her. She could already sense a sort of tension in the air, especially with Scott's bluntness, thankful she wasn't the only one who took a sudden disliking to Gerard Argent. The fake smile their principal wore grew more and more irritating by the second. Her fingers came to feel the warm silver of her heart shaped necklace, the pads of her fingers running over the initials: N.G.C.H.

His eyes peered over paper work, staring at them with his dark eyes, back and forth.

"Scott McCall, not the most academically accomplished student, but I see you are a star athlete." A normal teenage boy usually revels in the glory of being a star athlete, but not Scott, she noticed. His face was as still as calm water, observing the man in front of him.

Nikita swore the air around her thickened, tasting bitter on her tongue. A hollow had caved itself in Nikita's stomach, now wasn't the time to think of food, but damn she was hungry. Nikita looked to Stiles who was acting more jittery than ever, not even knowing that was a possibility. His knee bouncing up and down to a fast paced rhythm, eyes darting all around the room. He had absolutely no clue what to do with his hands, on the desk, on the arm of the chair, folded on his lap. His nerves were starting to rub off on Nikita, and now her fingers were at the back of her head, picking at the stitches.

The old man squinted at the paper in front of him. "Stiles...Stilinski... Is that really your name?"

Stiles exhaled heavily from his nostrils in annoyance. "Yes... that is my name."

"I see, you have top marks in everything, great test scores." A sly smirk spread across Stiles' lips as he basked in his own glory and accomplishments, even letting his eyebrows dance up and down for Nikita.

"But I see you don't participate in any extracurricular activities. Maybe you should try out for the Lacrosse team." Gerard finished.

Stiles' smile fell at once. "Actually I am in-"

"Nikita Grace!" Gerard moved on, not caring for what Stiles had to say. His liver spotted hands held her papers up.

"Average grades, could be much better. You're involved in Track and Field, Cross country, and the Art Club."

He leaned in close, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening while his brown eyes bored into her soul. "I've heard about your accident. So devastating." Nikita's face went beet red, this was humiliating and deeply uncomfortable.

Gerard seemed to sense her apprehensions, giving her a chuckle. 'It's ok, don't feel ashamed, the whole town knows about it."

As if that was supposed to make her feel any better. The anxiety which she felt was like a brick placed upon her chest, Nikita's fingers really digging into the scabs around the stitches now.

She hated this man, she hated this school, she hated Beacon Hills.

Stiles' hand came to rest on her left hand, the hand that had sat atop the armrest of her chair. She knew he was trying to make her feel better, offer her sympathy, but Nikita didn't want sympathy at the moment. Nikita wanted answers.

"Out of curiousity...Do you remember anything about that night? Anything at all?" He was prying into her life without the grace of subtlety when she hardly knew him.

"I don't want to talk about that night." She forced the words through gritted teeth. The constant drumming of her heart beat was rising, faster and faster. Her finger painfully digging into the stitches, part of her wanting to rip it off from irritation. Her fingers starting to get sticky with blood now. Scott looked to her with worry behind his eyes, leaning closer to Nikita. It was strange to see any protectiveness coming from Scott, Nikita brushed it off bringing her attention back to Gerard.

" I want to point out that I am very thankful you walked away with minor injuries….after suffering a fall so great." Gerard's hand planted over his heart to show his false sincerities.

Her right brow arched up. Minor injuries? Did he not see the ugly welt that will forever mark the back of her head?

Nikita cleared her throat. "There's actually something I want to talk about…"

Gerard's eyes lit with hope and he leaned him, giving her all of his undivided attention with that yellow toothed smile of his.

"Anything, my dear."

Oh, he was smiling now. Nikita intended to turn the tables on him. Her fingers, now smudged with blood, came to grab his shiny new name plate, crimson prints now on the corners. She could see her blurred reflection over the Argent name. If one were to look closely they would have seen the twitch at the corner of her lips before she came to tear Gerard's calm.

"Your daughter killed my best friend and her family." Nikita putting his name plate back on the desk before glaring down Gerard, letting him know she was in charge now.

A heavy blanket of silence fell upon the room, all three men looking dumbfounded and slack jawed. A muffled "oh shit" left Stiles who did his best to hide his wide mouth behind his hands. Scott looking like he was ready to jump out of the damn window.

Salt was added to the wound when she shrugged her shoulders and put on her most dazzling smile. "It's okay, the whole town knows about it."

She mocked his very own words hiding venom within her honeyed voice. Nikita didn't really understand authority. For the most part she was a well mannered child growing up, she was somewhat well mannered now. She had always lacked an authority figure, someone to set her boundaries, someone to tell her no. Gerard held no restrictions over her, she didn't recognize or abide by his authority.

Her stomach letting out a hungry growl, but she was much too distracted by Gerard to care. The heat on the older Argent 's face was rising, coloring his cheeks a beet red. He looked like he was about to suffer from a heart attack any moment now. Up and down the vein on the side of his neck went, throbbing and angry. Nikita wondered what it would take to make it burst.

Finally he cleared his throat "Nikita, I understand you've gone through really rough times. So I will let your crass attitude slide this one time. But from now on you will be visiting our school psychologist, Mrs. Morell every Thursday after lunch."

"That's not fair!" Nikita spat out, her anger flaring to meet his.

Gerard began shuffling the papers, putting away files. Done with this conversation."There's no shame in seeking help, my dear."

His eyes went back and forth between Scott and Stiles, brushing Nikita off. "You two. I need one of you to stay behind for detention." Scott looked to his best friend, Stiles sunk in his seat.

"I volunteer." Stiles making no effort to hide his disappointment.

"Scott, Nikita, you two are excused, I hope to never see any of you in here again."

She didn't hesitate to run out of the door, her anger felt so bottled up she feared of what might happen. Scott ran after her, his heavy footsteps following hers. "Hey! Wait!"

He caught up to her as she walked down the hall. "Are you okay, Niki?"

"I'm just great!" She exclaimed as she threw her hands out.

"...Really?"

"Yeah i'm just a bag of fucking sunshine ready to explode, and rain candy upon all the good little children of Beacon Hills."

His face blank…Her sarcasm lost upon him.

Dark brown hair whipped to the side as she turned to look at Scott with a quizzical glare "No offense Scott. But you've been uh- how do I say it nicely? Sort of a shitbag since we first met. Our parents have been dating for a long while; and you've made no effort to get to know me except for that one time you wanted to get to know my lips."

Scott absolutely mortified at the mention of that extremely uncomfortable encounter the two shared. "I'm sorry about th-"

"-Why the sudden interest in my well being?"

" I uh." Scott seemed to have difficulty forming a proper sentence, his eyes kept glancing over to the front door of the school, freedom from this awkward conversation only a mere twelve feet away. "I...I need to go."

Nikita felt like she had just hit a brick wall with Scott, their conversations never seemed to get far. This time she was not satisfied with where it ended, she needed to know what had Scott so frazzled, why the hell he was so weird and dismissive around her all the time.

Nikita ran after him, getting to the front steps of the school to see a familiar black Camaro parked alongside the curb. She felt like she was wading in mud as she walked towards the car, her frustrations easing at the sight of Derek. She hadn't heard from him since before her accident, leaving him texts in hopes he would respond. A grin pulled at her lips, her dimple appearing. Nikita was actually excited to see Derek, he must have been here for her.

Her smile soon dissolved when she watched Scott hop into Derek's car, neither having seen her. Nikita couldn't even begin to process any of what she saw. What the hell was Derek Hale doing, hanging out with freaking Scott McCall? These two have no means or connections to know one another. There was something going on, something she didn't know, something she wasn't a part of. Whatever it was, was the reason Derek had decided to cut her out of his life, like she had meant nothing to him.

The car engine began to rumble and the tires slowly rolled forward. It happened in a blink when Nikita found herself in front of the black Camaro. Her palms came to rain down on the hood, startling both Derek and Scott, the car coming to a sharp halt before her. The two men looked at each other before Scott stepped out of the car, Derek only rolling a window down.

"Nikita?"

"What the hell is going on!?" Nikita demanding from where she stood, still standing with her hands placed on the hood of the car.

"We just have to run an errand, and we'll be back."

His answer seemed so contrived, like he had practiced it this morning in the mirror. Nikita wasn't buying it for a second.

"Does your mom know you ditch your classes to hang out with a twenty five year old man?" Nikita spotting Derek inside the car, he looked beyond stress, she was nothing more than a nuisance to him.

Scott came closer to her, his hands ruffling through his long dark hair. "Please don't tell my mom!"

Finally, Derek stepped out from the car, pulling off his aviator sunglasses so that his cold grey eyes could peer upon her own.

"Nikita, we' don't have time to explain-"

"What the hell is going on!?"

It was only a few months ago when Derek had showed up to her doorstep, asking Nikita to be careful of herself, he was so protective and caring of her then. She remembered the hard facade he wore around Stiles. Derek would always do that, wear shards around others, but around Nikita he would melt. He was like a big brother to her in the past, always stuck with babysitting her and Cora, always complaining about having to look after them; but he loved the girls regardless, and they loved him back. She thought while suffering through this trauma and turmoil she would at least have him in her corner, have his love and his support, because she needed it now...more than ever.

Derek held his hands out, as if approaching a cautious animal, this only aggravated her further.

"I know things are really confusing and jumbled right now." Derek taking a few steps towards her, Nikita taking a few steps back. "You need to trust in me-"

"Where the hell were you!" Nikita shouting from where she stood, trying so very hard not to get emotional, fighting back the tears that stung at her eyes. Her face was getting red and mottled now. " Where were you while I was in the hospital? I texted you everyday since and you never cared!"

She was wounded, showing the hurt with no restraints for Nikita knew no other way when it came to her emotions. Derek had no clue how damaging his ways had been to her. Her words pained him, she could see past his hard exterior like no one else. Derek Hale could try if he wanted to, he was merely glass to her.

"I meant to...It's just... I"

"You what! You what, Derek?" Nikita brought the sleeve of her sweater to her lips, chewing on the fabric anxiously, waiting to hear what he would have to say. What ludicrous excuse he would use on her to keep her at arm's length. Derek looked to Scott, as if he could come up with an answer. Scott's shoulders hitched and fell, giving Nikita a heavily sympathetic look. She hated the way the both of them were looking at her.

"Nothing, we need to go." Derek making for a hasty getaway, figuratively and literally turning his back on Nikita.

Her hand came to wrap around his right arm, nails digging into the soft leather of his jacket. She had him within her grip, stopping him one last time. The muscles there tensed, even underneath her fingertips. Derek took in a rather large inhale, turning to look upon her with his stone hard merciless expression. He had never looked upon her with such discontent. The Derek she knew always had a smile for her, no matter what. Nikita shrunk back while still holding onto his arm.

Derek's jaw twitched with annoyance, his eyes fell upon the heart shaped necklace she wore, then locked eyes with her.

"Every time I look at you, I think of _her_."

 _Her._

Derek had taken Cora and sharpened her into a weapon, spearing it right through Nikita's heart. Her hands fell lamely to her sides, Nikita feeling like she had just jack-knifed into an ice filled pool. She couldn't spare the tears, she couldn't spare much with how numb she was feeling at the moment.

"Get in the car, Scott." Derek wasting no time.

Scott lingered next to her for a second, not wanting to leave her side before deciding it was best he left her alone. The two of them got in the car without a goodbye.

"Well fuck you Derek!" Nikita sticking out her middle finger, his car peeling off the curbside. "Go ahead and leave! You contribute to NOTHING!" She kicked the trash can next to her, the contents spilling over the curb, his car already making its way out of the school lot.

Nikita slumped to the ground, her shaking knees no longer wanting to support her. She sat along the edge of the curb, tears blurring her view as the Camaro vanished from sight.

* * *

Hope you guys enjoyed the hurt! Please please leave me love and reviews. Rewriting a story is a hell of a job, every bit of encouragement really helps! Enjoyed the angst? Good, because it'll get even angstier as we go on!


	23. Chapter 23

Hello everyone! You guys have been so wonderful, thank you for the feedback on the last chapter!

Shoutout to those who were kind enough to leave me reviews: City of Books, TW- Addict, thewailingwolf25, Maddie Rose, princessdarkness12, Feral lahey, Wildrecklessyouth, BeccaSco, It belongs in a museum.

ALSO Thank you so much Galanerd for all the kind words and inspiration, Ares and your writing and your story has been such a motivation!

I appreciate your reviews, opinions, and ahh you guys are all so amazing :]

* * *

'Every time I look at you, I see _her_."

Scott flinched as Derek tore Nikita open with his careless shard-like words. That sentence may not have been aimed at him, but it left Scott feeling gutted all the same. He could see the brave and senseless girl crumbling beside him, Nikita trying so hard to keep herself together. It was hard looking into those big watery hazel eyes, she looked like Bambi staring down a shot gun; Scott had to avert his eyes at this point. Because even he couldn't bare the treatment Derek had just given her.

He had held her at arm's length since Peter had chased her off the edge of the world. It wasn't an easy accomplishment seeing how his mother was dating Dr. Grace, Scott knew he would have to let Nikita in eventually. On top of that she could potentially become Stiles' first ever girlfriend. Yet guilt had a way of following Scott like a shadow, he couldn't help but to find ways in blaming himself for what had happened to Nikita the night of Winter Formal. Sometimes at night he would lay awake, and try to picture what it was like for Nikita at the bottom of Suicide Hill, the poor girl having been so scared and alone. She had always put in an effort in getting to know Scott, trying her best with small talk. And while Scott was always polite to her, he never initiated conversation.

Derek commanded Scott into the car, and while Scott really wanted to stay behind and comfort Nikita, he had to go. There was a murderer on the loose.

The two of them left her on the edge of the curb just at the front entrance of the school. Scott sat in the passenger seat, putting on his seatbelt while Derek zipped out the parking lot.

"That was harsh, Derek. Even for you." Scott began, keeping his eyes trained on the passenger side mirror, a devastated Nikita disappearing from view. His heart sank for her. " Did you even mean what you said?"

Derek's jaw was terribly clenched, his fingers imitating that by tightening over the steering wheel, pulling the skin over his knuckles tight. It seemed he had hurt himself in the process of tearing Nikita down. Briny and bitter was the scent of sorrow that lifted off of Derek Hale.

" She can't be pulled into this." Derek avoiding Scott's question. "It's the only way to keep her safe." His answer almost robotic, drilled into the Alpha's head.

Scott's eyes were still on the passenger mirror, watching the evergreens they passed blur as Derek sped along the road. "Because we did such a great job the first time around. Did you know Gerard Argent suspects her to be a werewolf?"

The Alpha tore his eyes off the road to look to Scott with question. His eyes burning an insidious maroon in place of their misty grey upon the Argent Patriarch's name. " What do you mean?"

Scott looking to Derek now. "He kept probing her with questions about her fall. Kept asking her if she remembers anything. I mean she went missing for five days, aren't you even a little curious about where she was? How we couldn't sniff her out?"

"We couldn't find her because she wasn't even in Beacon Hills!" Derek quick to come to Nikita's defense. "And before you start siding yourself with Gerard Argent, have you picked up her scent recently?"

"Yeah." Scott's hand holding onto the overhead door grip, Derek driving even faster, mindless with his sharp turns.

"And?"

"She doesn't smell any different. She's human." Scott confirming, she wasn't supernatural like Gerard Argent suspected her to be.

"That's right. Human." Derek reassuring himself.

Scott let out a sigh, such an exhausting conversation. "Alright, where are we going?"

"We're going to go check the Lahey house for clues. The first victim was Mr. Lahey, there has to be a reason why these specific people are being plucked off." Derek's hand coming to scratch the stubble on the end of his chin. "I just can't seem to connect the dots."

"There's something else." Scott recalling the strange men he had seen at Kate's funeral. The man with the pepto-pink hair and the military looking stranger who had spotted him.

"Now what?" Derek, a hair short of annoyance. His day getting worse and worse and they had just begun.

"Stiles and I were at Kate Argent's funeral. I was there to support Allis-"

"Your huntress girlfriend?" Derek rudely interrupting.

"She's not a huntress." Scott rolling his eyes, ignoring Derek's distaste for Allison. "Well, while we were there, two men showed up. And I think they were hunters. They knew Gerard. And one even threw himself on top of Kate's casket and started crying."

"Hmm. stupidly bright and cheap colored hair? Derek hitting the nail right on the head. "Golden tooth? Hideous tattoos? Dresses like he owns a Hot Topic?"

'Y-Yeah! That's him!" Scott was sitting straight in his seat now, curious as to how or why Derek even knows the creeper.

"Yeah. That's Bronson. Watch out for him, he's gunning for a head position with the Collection." Derek had spoken so casually, as if this Bronson was no mere threat to him.

"...What's the Collection?"

The Alpha tore his gaze away from the winding road once more to give Scott such an incredulous look that even he began to sink in his seat with shame. "You honestly don't know? The Collection is literally a collection of the world's finest hunters curated by Gerard Argent himself. They are the most deadly, most ruthless killers known to man. Even god can't help you if they catch sight of you. I've heard stories of them slaughtering large packs without so much lifting a finger."

The color from Scott's face drained. The military looking one certainly knew what Scott was. "Gerard knows what you are, and I think one of them knows what I am. How come they haven't attacked yet?"

"They're going to be mourning Kate for a while, she had a mighty position within the Collection. And once that's done…."

Scott looked outside the window, feeling nauseous, afraid, and angry all at once. His eyes shining a molten gold, knowing exactly what Derek would say next, finishing the sentence for him.

"They'll want retribution."

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

 _"Are you scared, Nikita Grace?"_

She had attempted to open her eyes, to wake herself of the constant nightmare.

However, there was something heavy on her eyes. Something hard had been resting on top of her lids, pinning them down. Feeling blindly with her fingers, Nikita plucked a pair of quarters off her face. Two warm silver quarters that should not have been there.

Someone had placed them on her while she was asleep…

At once she sat up. Her head turned frantically side to side to see if that someone was still there, watching her from a distance. Nikita froze for a moment, allowing her heart rate to slow so that she could listen. It seemed that she was alone, or so she hoped.

Nikita stared at the silver coins she held in her grips, there was nothing special about them, they weren't even god-damn state coins.

" _They found you clutching a fist full of coins_." Lydia's faint voice echoed in her head when she recalled the night Stiles found Nikita.

Nikita groaned feeling the soft squish of earth between her toes, waking up in the woods seemed like it would become the new normal for her. She took a moment to really look around, it was denser in these parts of the woods, where trees twisted and stretched towards the sky, shoulder to shoulder. Nikita turned to look over her own shoulder, she wasn't at the base of Suicide Hill like the last time she had woken up. From her guess she was much further north. She got up on her feet, taking in a second to bring awareness to herself, still waking up.

The familiar and heady aromas of raw oak and wet moss cloaked all about her. Some people feel nostalgic when they smell playdough or even the baby shampoo they were once washed with their mother's gentle hand. But with Nikita it was different, the scent of nature filled her with exhilaration, a sense of being alive. How she relished it when the fresh air filled her lungs. It brought the haze of memories she had clung onto with a miserable desperation. With all that was going on in Nikita's life...Sometimes it felt like memories were all that she had, ironic, seeing how she couldn't even remember the night of Formal.

However, those memories, the nostalgia, and even the scent of the winter woods were on the verge of tarnishment for Nikita. While her heart belonged within these woods, an ever growing fear crept on her since her terrible accident. The fog that had rolled from atop the hills in barrels of silver and white began to creep along the forest floor, narrow wispy fingers slowly making its way to her legs. Like a child afraid of the ocean tide, Nikita began to back away from the fog, not allowing it to touch her.

She had placed the quarters in the breast pocket of her pajama top, Nikita would have to put them in her piggy bank to add with the rest of the collection. Her tongue ran across her terribly chapped bottom lip, tasting the coppery tang that came with the dryness. It was then her stomach let out an awful hungry groan, like a savage beast attempting to viciously clawing its way out, begging to be fed and satiated. Her arms wrapped around her stomach, it seemed lately her appetite had slowly begun to diminish. Nothing looked pleasing anymore, much how like nothing really held her interest anymore.

Nikita began her journey back home, hoping no one would see her this time.

* * *

She had managed to show up to school on time. The day was going relatively well, and by well she meant normal...aside from the eeriness of the quarters from the morning. It was nearing lunchtime now and she so desperately needed to talk to Lydia. Even though they had seen each other through the day, lunch was the perfect time to sit and divulge her morning with her friend.

Nikita opened her locker to put away her books for now, greeted by the familiar blue Eichen House brochure. Someone had stuffed another one through her locker grate. This time she didn't freeze in place or nearly burst into tears. She wasn't going to make a scene, let people have the satisfaction of her dismay. Instead she grabbed it, crumpled it in her fist and allowed it to fall to the ground. She was going to pretend she never saw it, she was going to pretend her hands weren't shaking. Nikita couldn't afford to get emotional, not right now, because once the floodgates opened it was hard to close back up.

Instead of mulling over the brochure she made her way to the cafeteria, where Lydia was already sitting. The redhead pulled her lunch out of the brown paper bag, giving Nikita a small smile.

The stares were back...In fact they had never left.

All eyes were on her, and now walking to the lunch bench where her friend sat seemed like the longest walk she would ever take. While some people felt sorry for Lydia, she was the helpless girl who had been so merciless attacked on an open field. Meanwhile Nikita was the girl who was starved for attention and attempted to throw her life away. People found it easier to look down on Nikita rather than to feel sorry for her. Nobody had offered her a helping hand, you would think love and understanding would be offered to a girl who had attempted fate. Not that it would matter. Nikita would slap any helping hand, for she knew she did not attempt suicide the night of Winter Formal, no matter what was being said about her.

No matter how much sense it made to her and everybody else.

The rest of their classmates seemed to love the fall of queen bee Lydia and her friend. Watching two top social pyramid princesses tumble to the bottom had been more than satisfying to them. They were no longer popular in that people wanted to befriend them, or be them. No. They were popular with all the rumors going on about them.

Nikita let out a huff of air, a chestnut strand rising and falling with her sudden breath.

She sat across Lydia, pulling out a single red apple from her bookbag, polishing it on her sleeve before setting it down. Lydia looked to Nikita's lunch, unimpressed with the lack of food, even poking at the apple until it rolled to the side.

"Please tell me this isn't some diet, Nikita, you're looking thinner these days."

Nikita only shrugged her shoulder, setting the deep red apple upright again. " I just don't have much of an appetite today. Anyways...where's your beloved stubborn pig- faced narrow minded piece of garbage darling boyfriend? What was his name?"

She was dramatically looking off to the distance now with narrowed eyes, as if trying to pull the answer from thin air. " Dicknose? Assface? Jackass? Jackson?"

To this Lydia let out a fake laugh, humoring Nikita, and rolled her olive eyes, looking more saddened than anything.

"He's having mood swings somewhere, he's been so... off lately."

"Imagine my lack of surprise." Nikita not even attempting to sound enthusiastic.

She bit down on her apple as Lydia checked herself out with a pocket mirror, making sure every brassy strand of hair was in place. "Lydia, you're an undercover genius…"

Her best friend scoffed while teasing her strawberry blonde hair with her fingers "I could have told you that myself. What do you need Nikita?"

The question was going to be awkward, but Nikita knew Lydia had the answers, she always did.

"What does it mean when you put two quarters on someone's eyes?"

Lydia's eyes narrowed on her, causing Nikita to squirm in her seat. Perhaps she was baffled by the randomness or spontaneity. It was a stupid question to begin with.

"Charon...Duh."

Nikita leaned closer, her voice dropping low without meaning to. " Ch-Charon?"

Her best friend shook her head in disapproval "Do you not pay attention in history? How are we even in the same class? Charon!"

Nikita only knew two things for sure. One being Lydia shouldn't even be in Nikita's history class, she should be in a college level class. Two being that she had no freaking clue what Lydia was on about.

"Uhh... sounds Greek-ish..." She said, cringing at how dumb she sounded.

Lydia let out a groan. "Yes, Greek mythology," she said and it was times like these where she allowed a glimpse of her true genius to shine. The intelligence she tried so hard to hide from the world around her. "See, Charon was the ferryman who rode the river Styx carrying souls to the afterlife. People would put two coins on the eyes of the deceased to pay their toll across. It's an old Greek tradition."

A sickly feeling of fear swept through Nikita, momentarily overwhelming her. She looked quickly down at her hands, struggling to control the feeling of a full blown meltdown. Coins on the eyes of the dead? Just thinking of it reminded her how heavy and warm they were sitting upon her eyes. A hot flash of anxiety shot through her and she couldn't even imagine finishing the apple before her, she couldn't even imagine getting up.

Just then Stiles and Scott approached, Stiles sliding on the bench so he was seated hip to hip with her. With his arm wrapped around her waist Stiles pulled Nikita in close, closing the space between them.

"In a few days." he whispered in Nikita's ear, making her even more excited for their upcoming date.

And just like, worry and stress began to thaw off her shoulders, just by Stiles simply being there. She could ignore her dislike for Scott -who was across from her next to Lydia- for the shenanigans he and Derek pulled yesterday in the parking lot. For now she was staring into those deep bourbon eyes that belonged to the twitchy boy with a buzzcut.

"I can't wait." Nikita's forehead coming closer to Stiles. It felt natural, neither of them pulling away from the other. They were two magnets attracting each other, their body language always facing towards one another. Her dimples appearing with her smile.

Stiles licked his bottom lip, and Nikita remembering that they had only kissed each other once.

"For a moment I thought you had forgotten." He admitted.

Her bold brows quirked up playfully."Did you want me to forget?"

Stiles let out a chuckle, nudging her shoulder playfully. "Yeah, I was actually sort of really hoping to go with Greenberg. I hear he's a hell of an ice skater."

Nikita's eyes lit up with excitement. How she had loved ice skating as a child! "Ice skating? I haven't been ice skating in forever. I don't think I remember how!"

"I do." Lydia interjecting herself into their conversation, having been bored with the attention off of her. "I'm actually really good at it. What time are we going?"

Scott, Stiles, and Nikita looked at each other, wondering how to tell her it was a double date and not a casual hang out. Just then the room fell silent. Both Scott and Lydia peered over Nikita's shoulder to the entrance of the cafeteria, and let out a collective groan. Nikita turned to see a blonde girl she didn't recognize, the boy behind her being Isaac Lahey. She knew Isaac since he lived right across from Jackson, he was a nice boy, more on the silent side. However he looked different, he had dumped the lame striped polos for a more clean cut shirt and a leather jacket. She had never thought she would see Isaac Lahey in a leather jacket, let alone actually pulling it off.

The blonde girl Nikita had yet to recognize had her bedroom eyes dead set on her, Nikita swallowing thickly, feeling like she may be in trouble. Every person had their eyes on her as she swung her hips seductively side to side. She wore a low cut white shirt and a skin tight leather skirt that squeaked with every strut.

"How does she even move in that bondage suit?" Lydia whispered loud enough for Nikita to hear.

Whoever she was, she was stunning. But there was no denying Nikita was feeling intimidated...hell every girl in the cafeteria was feeling intimidated. Some holding their boyfriends close, others sticking their noses in the air. But Nikita couldn't break the gaze the two of them were holding, racking her brain trying to figure out who she was.

The blonde girl made it to their table and hunched next to Stiles who was sitting on the end of the bench, she gave the whole table a good look at her cleavage and her black lace bra. Her warm amber eyes scanned the table, red painted lips tugged at the corners revealing a smirk. Nikita and Lydia exchanged glances, uncomfortable, both of them shifting in their seats. This girl was oozing with sex appeal, and while some were trying to tame their raging hormones... Nikita wanted to know where she was buying her push-up bras from.

"Hello Stiles." She said while licking her bottom lip slowly her red polished fingers stroking the back of his head. Nikita's face however stayed calm, perhaps much too calm. She had handled herself so well today that nothing was going to make her crack; and she didn't want people thinking even worse of her.

"Erica..." Stiles mumbled, clearly uncomfortable, clearly annoyed. These two must have had run-ins before.

The blonde beta decided she wasn't a fan of Nikita's much too calm demeanor. For Nikita being calm showed her that she was no threat. Even as Erica was in Stiles' personal space, touching him, seducing him, Nikita carried on eating her apple.

"Do you recognize me?" Her gaze falling on an unimpressed Nikita.

She only shook her head, far from bothered, only wanting her to go away. "Why, should I?"

Annoyance and anger flashed behind those smoldering amber eyes and Nikita could see her smirking reflection clearly. "I recognize him!" Her head nodding to the side where Isaac stood at a distance. "Hey Isaac!"

Lahey didn't bother saying hi, from where he stood, leaning against a vending machine. Instead he reciprocated with a lazy smirk, fully amused by this situation. What did Erica hope to accomplish?

"I sit behind you in chemistry. You've never glanced my way, and you never made the effort to get to know my name." Erica's blood red nails scratching into the surface of the table, both Scott and Stiles looked panicked now.

Nikita felt badly for Erica being upset. But she had so much going on in her life, she always had something dragging her down. Erica was whining about someone not knowing her name, meanwhile Nikita was waking up in the middle of the woods, plagued by constant nightmares, bullied on a daily basis, and felt a disconnect from those around her. And god-damn she was so hungry. Erica's complaint was sounding like white noise to her, if even the world's tiniest violin was playing it's song, Nikita would make a note to smash it.

"So you discovered how a hairbrush works, and you've invested in a push up bra and lipstick? Am I supposed to give you a gold star? What the hell do you want?" Nikita taking another bite of her apple.

A sharp gasp was let out by Scott, Stiles' hand coming to wrap around her arm, holding her close in his firm grip. Isaac on the other hand let out a chuckle from where he stood, Lydia making no effort of hiding her smile, seemingly proud of Nikita.

This was brazen, even for Nikita. But with all that she had been going through the entire week, and Erica's attitude, it only seemed fair.

"You think you're a funny girl, don't you, Nikita? You're just a girl, a little girl. What was it like? Little girl, when you fell from grace?"

"That's enough, Erica." Scott using an assertive voice Nikita had never heard before.

Yet another person she hardly knew who was trying to bring her down. The clever brunette let out a long and drawn out sigh. Merely exhausted with it all.

" I've never heard that one before; how long did it take you to come up with that piece of original garbage?" Nikita waiting to see what Erica would say next.

Erica twirled her golden spun hair between her fingers, "It may not have been original, but it got you to squirm...But not as much as this will." The scandalous blonde lowered herself towards Stiles and brought her lips to his ear. Her teeth gently grazed the shell, making his whole body stiffen up. "What are you doing with a girl like that, when you can have a woman like me?" She whispered in his ear, maintaining eye contact with Nikita.

That was it.

Nikita quickly jumped up and grabbed Stiles' lunch tray, emptying the contents, then held it out; ready to hit a homerun across Erica's pretty face. Like the fluttering wings of a humming bird Nikita's pulse quickened. Her breath shorter and shorter as anger skyrocketed to the surface; her mossy eyes now darker and richer than devil's food cake.

Stiles quickly grabbed the tray, rendering her unarmed and completely useless against Erica. The blonde beta was at first thrown off at Nikita's tenacity, then when she decided it was amusing did she give Nikita a shark-ish grin. Scott and Stiles got up, escorting Nikita out of the cafeteria and far from Erica Reyes.

" I hate her!" Nikita seethed when they reached the hall, craning her neck to try and look over Stiles to where Erica was. "That bleach blonde shit!"

Stiles threw his hands in the air defensively. "What were you going to do, Nik? Fight her? She would have literally torn you to shreds." His voice panicky and concerned.

Nikita's eyes narrowed on him. "You think because she has a few inches on me I can't take her?"

Scott and Stiles were before her now, Nikita's back to a locker, making sure she wasn't trying to dart past them.

"That isn't the point." Scott's fingers gripped in his hair before letting go. "She just wants a reaction from you, don't give it to her." He looked over his shoulder to see Allison crossing the other end of the hall, she certainly had his attention for someone pretending not to be his girlfriend.

"I gotta go!" Scott said suddenly, turning on his heels at once and running off to meet up with Allison.

Stiles shook his head disapprovingly at Nikita, yet the warm smile on his face said something else completely. He looked at her with admiration, or perhaps like he was seeing her for the first time. "You always keep me on my toes, Nik."

"It's one of my better qualities." Her smile matching his, even with her unending rage thanks to Erica.

"Alright, i'm going to go back in there and make sure she hasn't ended Lydia. I'll see you later?"

Stiles' hands gently brushed the sides of Nikita's arms, up and down. It was all she could focus on, his words lost in the sensation of his flirtatious touch. It may not have seem to be much, innocent to anyone with a pair of eyes; but Nikita didn't want him to go, to stop touching her. The delicate friction of it warming through her sweater was enough to get her to wear a dopey looking smile, it took everything of Nikita not to bury her head in his chest and ask him to hold her. It was then she realized how badly she needed a hug, a pat on the back for the day she was having.

Nikita nodded a yes and watched him brave back into the cafeteria.

* * *

-Lydia's POV-

Lydia walked down the hall, looking for her boyfriend. Ever since her accident he had been nothing but cold and distant to her, but not as much as he had been this past week. She had become a stranger to him, even when she tried her best he would push her away. Slowly she peeled off her Marc Jacobs suede gloves, her right hand was thrashed and torn.

It was this morning when she woke up to her bloody hand...She had punched her mirror. And what for? she had absolutely no clue, and it terrified her. That's what she was, terrified, scared of the events taking place in her mind; or had they always been real?

She finally saw him sipping from the water fountain, unaware of her presence. She was nothing more than a ghost to him, yet Lydia would continue to try. With a coy smile she placed her hands over his eyes "guess who?" she whispered playfully in his ear.

To her dismay her hand was shoved away, he turned to face her with the most unsettling scowl on his face, as if she was the last thing he wanted to see today. Her eyes narrowed on a hand held camera in his grips.

What the hell was her boyfriend doing with a camera? "Did you borrow Matt's camera? Just because you're co-captain instead of THE captain doesn't mean you need to join yearbook. No need to get desperate yet."

His jaw clenched tight and at once his face flared an angry red, she worried he might actually combust.

"Were you in my room last night?" Jackson spat out, wasting no time in warm greetings.

The notion so absurd it took Lydia a few seconds to comprehend the venom laced words that had just left his mouth"W-Was I in your room?"

"What did you do to this?" he held out the camera "What did you do to me?" The fear, evident in how his voice as it faltered.

All she did was love him, push him to succeed, to be the best athlete he could be. The red head took a few steps back, was she going out of her mind? "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

He shoved her aside like she was nothing to him, his blue eyes avoiding hers "Stay out of my way, Lydia."

She stood there like her feet were cemented to the ground, unsure of what had just happened. It didn't take a genius like Lydia Martin to figure out that people had seen the very public tiff, and rumors would spread like wildfire that Jackson was ready to leave her. "What the hell is going on?" Lydia muttered to herself in disbelief.

The obnoxious sound of the school bell made her jump, to say she was on edge was an understatement. This time her heels didn't click against the floor as much as they had dragged, she wanted nothing more than for this day to end.

Thinking about Jackson was making her feel worse and worse. The things she had done just to call him her boyfriend, how she had gone behind Nikita's back to win him. She had always told herself betraying Nikita's trust was worth it, because Jackson was the boy she had always dreamed of. She loved him so fiercely for many years, the two of them were always meant to be together.

In the end it wasn't worth it...It was never worth it.

She found her usual spot, in front of Nikita in class. Stiles Stilinski had the audacity of sitting in her area, just because Nikita had taken a liking to him did not mean he was welcome. It was a phase, Lydia knew Nikita was just trying to rebel against social norms by dating a bottom feeder such as Stiles.

She could hear them giggling and talking about their upcoming date, it sickened her. She was in denial of her burning jealousy, but she would rather be damned than to show it. Lydia turned around to get a good look at the two, Stiles' eyes were on Niki, looking at her like...

Like how every girl wanted to be looked at.

"Niki, please go eat a burger, you're making me look bad."

The smile on Nikita's face fell like a swatted fly.

It was a pointless fruitless insult, it was supposed to bring Lydia a few seconds of happiness, a false sense of superiority. She was the one who should have boys looking at her like that, not Nikita. Lydia felt nothing but even more guilt.

Her attention turned to the front of the class...The room was empty now when it had been filled earlier before... except for a man drawing a spiral on the chalkboard. The sound of it so grating in her ears, it caused her to cringe. The sound itself eliciting the most intense case of redhead froze in her seat as the strange man turned around with a sinister grin on his wickedly burned face.

"Wh-who are you?" She managed to squeak out, but it felt like a block of ice had frozen in the back of her throat. He gave no answer as he began walking towards her. One by one the desks flew as he flipped them over with all his might. He was stalking towards her, sapping off her fear like it was energizing him. Lydia let out a scream as she stood up and backed up against the wall; there was no escaping him or his maniacal laughter. All courage had fled her as she shut her eyes, hoping he would disappear.

"Lydia." He called her name in a playful sing song voice, taunting her "Lyyyydiiiaaa."

But Lydia would not give in.

 **"OPEN YOUR EYES LYDIA!"**

Her eyes flew open to see she was still seated in the middle of the class, tears streamed down her face as the whole class looked at her with awe.

"Lydia? A-are you okay?" Nikita's soft voice was behind her, her small hand rested on Lydia's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze...But it was not enough.

Lydia ran out of the class, not even looking back once.

"Lydia! wait!" Niki's voice was right behind her, but she didn't slow her pace down as she ran into the girl's bathroom and locked herself into a stall. She could hear the door open as Nikita ran in after her.

Her grip on reality was slipping, she was coming undone like a snagged thread on her favorite Tory Burch blouse. Lydia's knees buckled and she fell to the filthy bathroom floor, allowing herself to weep.

"Lydia? What happened back there?" Nikita's voice bounced off the walls of the empty bathroom

"Are you okay?"

"Of course i'm not okay! Everything is wrong! " Lydia snapped, how could Nikita be so oblivious?

"Like what?"

There she went again, being so clueless, just like everyone else. Lydia wiped her mascara runny eyes with her index finger. "Well for starters, everyone thinks i'm a freak!"

Nikita let out a soft laugh " I know how that feels, you're not alone on that one..."

"Alone." Lydia whispered, not for anyone but herself to hear "Alone is the only thing I know right now, alone and scared is exactly what I feel, every day. Allison is off chasing Scott around, pretending she's not dating him. You're always making googly eyes with Stiles smart ass Stilinski; I mean who names themselves Stiles!?"

Lydia felt the lump in her throat grow even larger as she went on "And Jackson, I hardly recognize him anymore; I'm lucky to even get a word out of him." She held her hands up, the knuckles of her fingers crusted with blood after last night's freak accident.

...Silence...Not a word from Nikita's end.

She had expected her best friend to say something comforting and typical by now, something, anything. The tip tap sound of a leaky faucet echoed in the bathroom, irritating Lydia to no end.

"Nikita!"

"I-I'm sorry...I don't know what to say. I didn't mean to leave you alone." Nikita confessing from the other side of the stall door. Lydia could see Nikita between the gap of the stall. The always anxious girl playing with her necklace.

"Do you think I deserve all of this?" Lydia couldn't believe what she was saying.

"Lydia, c'mon."

"I have something to tell you...And you're going to hate me for it, you have every right to hate me." Just like that the tears were spilling over again and Lydia could hardly get her words out.

"I slept with Jackson on the night of your party, when you two were still dating."

Lydia wrapped her arms around herself, readying herself to be scolded at.

"I know. I've always known."

Lydia felt absolutely gobsmacked, her tears halting. How was it possible Nikita had known for so long and never made a mention of it? Still stuck beside Lydia with all the world's loyalty when Lydia had blatantly betrayed her?

"I never had the energy to deal with it, Lydia, and I still don't." Nikita's boots clicked along the tile when she made her leave. Lydia falling into another fit of crying, drowning in both her tears and her guilt.

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

Nikita left the bathroom feeling frazzled. She had known about Jackson and Lydia, it was Jonesy who opened her eyes to the situation. But she had lived with her denial . . . had actually chosen it. It had felt safe and comfortable to lie to herself so that's what she did. But that was over and done with; she couldn't waste her life hating people, even her own father. She couldn't let the anger take over, or else at this point it would consume her.

This was all done for the sake of her sanity, her way of self preservation even if others saw this as Nikita being a pushover. She needed to let go of all that negativity, because every day was such a struggle already.

She should have been back in her last class of a day, but there were only mere minutes left. Instead she breezed past the front of the school, finding herself in the student parking lot. Her fingers raked through dark chestnut tresses coming to rest on the tight puckered skin that scarred the back of her head. Nikita often worried her stitches would never dissolve away like they were intended to, and if they did, they would leave a hideous mark to mar her with. It was childish of her to feel so insecure of her physical appearance. But she already felt so much like an outcast already, a freak. This ugly scar made her stand out more, no matter how hard she tried to hide it with her hair. It may have reminded her that she had survived a terrible accident, but it would also remind her the loss of memories she suffered and how the masses would see it and grimace at its ugliness.

Nikita didn't care about being liked. She just wanted to be left alone, wanted to blend into the mundanity of the average student life until she was no longer 'the girl who fell' instead she wanted to become a nobody.

Her hazel eyes flitted across the parking lot to where they meet the edge of the woods. Between the parking lot and the woods was a newly erected chain link fence, bright yellow police tape taped across the fence to add more emphasis of keeping out.

"No." Her voice coming out in a shaky whisper.

This would not help her with blending in. In fact this had made things so much worse. The fence had certainly been raised because of Nikita, because of her disappearance, because of the dangers they speak of that lurked within the woods. Every time a student would see the eyesore of a fence they would be reminded of Nikita. She marched towards the fence, pupils flaring with outrage, and gave it a good kick. It didn't do much, just a small rattle.

"No! Damnit!" This time Nikita tore off a long strip of police tape, flailing and flapping her arms as the plastic tape clung to her hands, refusing to part from her. Finally she threw it to the floor and stomped on it.

Her thoughts flowed freely within her, thinking of Derek and Scott, how they were keeping secrets from her like she were a child. They were deceitful even with the smiles they wore, neglecting her as if she was not worthy enough to even be amongst them.

Hurt lodged in the back of her throat, this fence keeping her out from the woods. Yes she found herself fearing them, but now that she was caged in she wanted back out. Nikita's fingers curled around the chains, shaking the fence violently.

Now she was wondering if Stiles was a part of it. Whatever Derek and Scott had going on. Did he know their secrets? Nikita wanted to believe that he wouldn't do that to her, that she was important enough to him to deserve honesty, yet an irrational flicker of betrayal pieced her thoughts.

Her fingers pulled back on the fence with all her might, as if her small hands could tear it down. Nikita shook at it, her right foot coming to kick it several times. In times of crisis she wanted nothing more than to seek peace and solitude. It was before her. It was right there within the trees. She feared the woods, but she feared this school even more. The people here were monsters. Scott and Derek had joined Lydia in carefully placing knives in her back so they rusted her blood stream. Those Eichen House brochures, mean girl Erica, Lydia's meltdowns, Derek's harsh comment,the quarters on her eyes. All of it, all of this. She wanted quiet, she wanted serenity, she wanted a place to rest her head and recover. Nikita's emotions began to swell like a rising tide, she had done so well to keep it in check all day. Alas, she had arrived at her breaking point and now she was taking out her feelings on a fence.

All her efforts halted upon hearing laughter in the distance. Nikita dared to look over her shoulder to see a sea of students waiting at the front steps of the school, watching her have a very public meltdown. Somehow she had missed the sound of the last bell of the day, people began pouring out into the parking lot, some had witnessed the shit fingers unclasped from the chain link, leaving red marks from where they pressed into her hand. Mossy tear filled eyes laid transfixed to the floor, looking at scattered pebbles across the asphalt rather than her school peers; doing everything she possibly could to keep it inside.

Finding it much too hard standing beneath the scrutinizing gazes, Nikita angrily strided off. She kept her eye averted to the ground, avoiding the judgemental scowls and whispers.

"Just like Lydia." She heard.

Nikita slid herself inside her mini cooper, slamming the door shut. Students started to disperse, done with their day, however Nikita couldn't bring herself to move. She was feeling overwhelmed and weighed down by all the emotional distress and trauma, it all sat so heavily on her shoulders, Nikita was weary. Tears began to spill from her eyes, streaking the contours of her cheeks. Her head coming to bury within her hands, hiding the tears that were so shamefully falling.

A sharp knock on the passenger side window nearly sent her into renewed hysterics,causing Nikita to gasp audibly. Familiar friendly brown eyes were staring at her full of question and worry, it was only Stiles. His name escaped her, and her quivering lips managed to twist into a small smile. Stiles opened the door and sat himself in the passenger seat next to her.

"Nikita, what's wrong?" Stiles' hand coming to brush a lingering tear off the top of her cheek. He was looking at her closely, examining every freckle on her red and mottled face.

"It's been a long day." Nikita admitted, not caring to lie to Stiles, but not ready to open up either.

Stiles' fingers came to pinch at the bridge of his nose for a moment, he seemed just as tense as her. "I know, people here can be so cruel." His dark eyes looking like a filtered glass of whiskey with the way the sun was hitting him. "I don't ever want you to feel alone. Because I'm here, ok?"

She feigned a small smile, not enough for her single dimple to appear, only enough to fool Stiles. His words fell upon her empty and hollow. Perhaps it was just bad timing on Stiles' part, perhaps it was a little hard for Nikita to trust anything her friends had told her. Scott being caught red-handed, Lydia confessing, Allison and her aunt. And although there was no reason for Nikita to ever suspect Stiles of anything, she couldn't help but to feel guarded. Was he keeping something from her too?

"Thank you." She muttered. "It makes me feel better, knowing you're on my side."

"I'll always be in your corner, Nikita, always."

A comfortable silence fell between them, the two gazing deeply into one another's eyes. The world outside blurred, and for a moment she forgot why she was even crying in the first place. Stiles' warm hand came to rest on hers, his thumb gently stroking her soft skin.

"I have to go now, but i'll call you tonight and check up on you, ok?"

She nodded her head, eyes dazzling deeply with want as Stiles got out and left her car. Nikita let out a sigh, feeling much more calm and at peace. It was like Stiles was her center, her peace, her solitude. A small replacement in place of the woods. The ease in which she felt was something Nikita would cling onto, until it got her to the night of their date. And now she was smiling thinking of their upcoming date night.

Nikita was caught in a love-lust haze when Stiles slid back into her car.

"Sorry, I forgot something!"

She blinked, having only a second to wonder what had been left behind before Stiles placed a quick kiss on her cheek. A fast but affectionate peck that warmed her all the way through once more. She placed her hand on the spot as Stiles slipped quickly out again knowing he was the reason why she wore such a noticeable blush.

* * *

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! This seems much longer than what I would usually write, so I know it was a lot to read through. Either way I would appreciate your input! I mean if you made it this far! Let me know what you thought of the chapter.

I can't wait for the next chapter -Dalex- ;]


	24. Chapter 24

Hey guys, thanks for coming back! Shoutout to all my lovely readers, GUYS IM ALMOST AT 100 FOLLOWS? I know by this point I should have more compared to others, but I guess the Gloaming is kinda small scale. And that's all right, because IM ALMOST AT 100!?

Thank you so much for those who leave me reviews because it gives me the encouragement to keep on going, and I need every bit of morale, this story means the world to me, as do you guys!

* * *

It was another grey and gloomy early morning in Beacon Hills. The world silent, the citizens of the small town waking gently from slumber. Even the birds were nested away in their homes, yet to spread their wings and start the day. A few cars drove down the street, people going to work.

Derek leaned against his black Camero, his car rumbling as she filled up with gas. The tip of his keys scraped the dirt underneath his nails, until it was clean to his liking. Contrary to what people would think, he disliked the peace, the silence, the stillness of the world. There was a time when his life was filled with noise and laughter, when he had a family. Sometimes he tried to recall his mother's warm honey voice or his father's hearty laughter, the melodic humming of his older sister,but instead he was greeted with silence...Silence was the only thing he knew now.

His mind thought of Nikita. How she was the only thing that felt like family to him now.

Every time he looked to her, he was reminded of Cora. It wasn't that they looked similar with their dark hair and eyes. They were a carbon copy of each other when it came to personalities, both brazen and resilient, stubborn to no end. They were once clever children, always knew how to use their innocent doe eyes to get whatever they wanted.

What if a time came and he had to wash Nikita's blood off his weary hands?

That nearly happened before with her accident and Derek was not taking anymore chances. The only way to protect her was to keep a distance from her, slowly sever his ties, and most importantly...Shield her from the supernatural world.

She had been blinded to the supernatural, her father and her late mother's wishes.

The fact that she was with that meek smart mouthed Stiles was bad enough, through him she could be exposed to the supernatural so easily. At least that kid knew how to keep a secret. And truth be told, the always loyal Stiles would look out for her, protect her; even if his arms were as skinny as overcooked noodles.

A white Maserati drifted from the pale vault of mist in the distance, with a terrible screech, blaring aggressively loud music. Birds took flight, frightened by the loud obnoxious sound, one of them taking a rather large shit on Derek's car.

Sucking in the crisp cold air through his teeth Derek desperately pleaded to no one in particular.

"Please don't come here. Please don't come here." He had hoped luck was on his side this one time.

But when has luck ever been a friend to Derek Hale?

Even with all the pumps at the gas station being empty, the white car pulled up to the pump right behind Derek's. The Alpha took in a deep inhale to let out a long exhale, knowing whoever was in the car, was pure trouble.

Out stepped a young man, around his age -perhaps a few years younger- wearing a black leather jacket. The words HATE were scribbled on the back of his jacket in stark white lettering. He wore a simple grey cotton shirt, denim jeans, high tops, and Ray Bans. Already Derek thought of him to be the most pretentious piece of crap he had ever seen in all of Beacon Hills, looking like he stepped out of a Rolling Stones magazine, and driving around in an overrated whip. Wordlessly the stranger swiped his credit card and began pumping gas into his car, ignoring the peeved Alpha next to him.

It only took a few seconds for Derek to dislike the stranger, he didn't even need a real reason. But if Derek were reaching for reasons... Maybe it was his sly grin he wore so proudly, looking at Derek like he knew all of his god damn secrets. Maybe it was the irritating non rhythmic sound of his short nails tapping on the hood of his white car. The young man took off his sunglasses to reveal shocking crystal blue eyes, eyes that looked eerily familiar, eyes piercing right through him. All of this was going to annoy Derek to no end, yet he didn't let up his gaze, not even for a second. The top corner of Derek's lip curled up in annoyance as the man kept tapping his nails against the hood of the car, staring Derek down without an ounce of fear or worry.

Clearly this moron never got the memo; you do not stare a blood thirsty predator in the eyes. A clear challenge, a show of dominance. How easily Derek could rip his throat out right now if he wanted to.

The Alpha's eyes narrowed on him "do I know you from somewhere?"

But he received no answer as the stranger took a few daring steps towards him. The smile he had worn slowly turned into something akin to disgust. "You're Derek Hale...Aren't you?"

It sounded more accusatory than questioning. Derek ignored him and turned around, tapping his foot impatiently while his car filled up. The Alpha knew bad news when he saw bad news, this boy was bad news.

"I guess that's a yes." The stranger's voice behind him.

Derek could care less for some fool he had never met, there were more important matters at hand, like a homicidal Lizard killing innocent people.

A chuckle was heard behind him, Derek still keeping his back towards the stranger, refusing to give him the slightest recognition to his existence. Derek wanted him to know that he meant absolutely nothing to the him.

"Your melancholic brooding and lugubrious silence must be a real panty dropper when it comes to the ladies, huh.." The stranger's breezy and deadpan voice annoying Derek to no end. "Stop me...i'm creaming myself already."

Anger seeped out of every pore as Derek's eyes flashed a ruby red, thankful he had his back turned towards the stranger. He could feel the tightness pull over his cuticles, his claws threatening to come out any moment. He was a pain in the ass. A sarcastic wise ass like Stiles, but something seemed more dangerous about this guy. He had an anger, although much more carefully hidden than Derek's, however, it was there below the cold calm demeanor he expertly wore. The Alpha could even pick up the bitter and strong scent of anger and hatred wafting off of him.

That leather jacket of his held no lie.

" No need to fret. I'm sure you'll eventually sweep some lucky gal off her feet. One who will find your personality to be... just charming." Sarcasm dripping from every word the stranger spoke.

Derek closed his eyes and he balled his hands to shaky fists. He breathed through his nostrils slowly and counted to ten, anything to keep his temper in control. Derek was about to whip around and demand his name when the sound of a revving engine made him snap out of his zen like state. The Alpha turned around to see the white Maserati zooming down the street, music louder than ever. Vanishing back into the mist.

* * *

-Stiles' POV-

He watched her from inside the library, a faint smile on his lips.

Nikita was outside in the quad, speaking to Alison. The two girls were seated at a bench beneath a tree, smiling and chatting amongst each other. Any animosity Nikita had held against Alison for her grandfather and aunt had dissipated, there was no awkwardness between the two girls.

Stiles smiled his dopey love-sick smile, both he and Scott wore matching dreamy grins. Both watching the girls from afar, excited for their double date...plus Lydia.

"She's so beautiful." Scott sighed out, his eyes on Allison.

Meanwhile Stiles couldn't stop staring at Nikita, she was so poised and playful all at once, a surreal contrast that no girl could carry. If her dimpled smile were an infectious disease he would pray no cure would be found. Nikita was the sun, the flowers, the birds, the dopamine swimming through his veins, all things good, pure and stunning wrapped up into one person.

"She sure is." Stiles agreeing while looking at her.

Scott's attention returned to Stiles, his thick brows pressing together, studying his best friend.

"Stiles, I've been talking to Derek lately…" The Beta's pencil tapping atop his textbook, knowing the mood was about to sour instantly.

His attention rips off Nikita to land on Scott, Stiles' mind about to implode with anger and curiosity.

"Wh-what? Why Derek? What could that delinquent possibly have to say? Give you tips on how to shave your wolfy back? Teach you how to mark trees?"

Scott decided to ignore his friend's spasmodic outbursts, and now Stiles is waving his pale hands in the air to add emphasis to his dislike of where this is going; going off on Scott about the Alpha. The patient Beta waits a full two minutes until Stiles is done, and now his friend is almost breathless, with nothing to say, just an angry twitch in his left eye.

" There's something going on with Nikita and Lydia, weather we like it or not." Scott starting again, hating how sinister this all sounds.

"Are you telling me they're supernatural?" Stiles says lowly, leaning in towards Scott, concern painted across his face.

Scott shakes his head. "No, they're definitely human, and they're also on the cusps of the supernatural world...We need to make sure they never find out."

Stiles nods, knowing how important it is for them to remain in the dark about this. Since Scott's 'transformation' things had changed drastically in Stiles' life. And while Stiles would stay by his best friend's side no matter what, through thick and thin...things had grown to be more dangerous. Every day Stiles feared for his father, afraid of pulling him into such hazard, most days Stiles even feared for his own life. He had so many close calls already in such a short span of time. The effects of the supernatural world had worn Allison thin as well, every day was such a challenge for her, the brave and bold Allison having to face a fresh hell day after day. Even Jackson could feel the effects of it, and soon Erica and Isaac would find out how deceiving their world could be. Stiles didn't want that for Nikita and Lydia, they had a shot at normalcy, he knew Scott would give everything up just to go back to the way things were before.

Scott looks away from Stiles, like he was ashamed for what he was about to say.

"Which is why I think it's best for all of us to be spending less time with Nikita and Lydia."

The most tense silence falls between the boys, Stiles' mind short circuiting, trying to process what he's just heard.

"That's not fair!" Stiles says a little harshly, at least Scott is looking at him now.

"I know."

"I love her!." Stiles blurts out, scooting his seat in closer to the desk, glancing one last time at Nikita as she waves goodbye to Allison.

Scott lets out a sad sigh."You guys haven't even been on a date yet-"

"You knew you loved Allison the first day you two met." Stiles pointing out.

His best friend goes silent, face full of contemplation. "Stiles, I know you really like Nikita. Look how rough things have been for Allison. She found out her aunt was a murderer, she has to carry a secret relationship all while under the surveillance of her grandfather. And the two of you are constantly battling for your lives and well being. And look at what's happening to Jackson, jesus christ he looks like a walking corpse."

Stiles shakes his head, still unconvinced. So Scott continues.

" There's a lizard creature out on the loose killing people, do you really want to drag two defenseless humans in this when they're already traumatized over Winter Formal? Neither of them have been able to adjust since then, what if this is what finally pushes them over the edge?"

Scott's head comes to rest in his hands. "I don't want this for them, I don't want to hurt them."

"I don't feel like discussing this right now." Stiles gets up and grabs his bag, walking away from his best friend. He's absolutely crushed, because Scott is undoubtedly right, but Stiles finds himself deep in denial. He feels so selfish for wanting Nikita, for even just wanting to be close to her.

The closer he gets to her, the further he pulls her into the deep waters of danger.

* * *

-Nikita's pov-

Silence had a way of ensuring the opposite effect on Nikita sometimes. When one would expect peace with silence, she found herself wrestling with her screaming anxiety. At least she was seated next to Lydia, although her friend was steeped in silence too, stuck deep in contemplation. Nikita eyed the fluorescents above them, cringing at the faint but noticeable flicker, the hiss of static, the ear raking frequency that only she seemed to be picking up. It was all giving her a migraine, far too bright for her liking. Her attention went back to her sketchbook, drawing the same pair of eyes over and over again. Such feral looking eyes, holding all the world's anger behind them. Nikita tilted her sketchbook away so Lydia couldn't peer inside and see her friend unraveling.

The door to Ms. Morell's office opened, the two girls reluctantly stepping inside. The office was silent, other than the sound of Ms. Morell shuffling through files and papers, and the irritating static hiss of her desk lamp. Nikita was busily chipping off her purple nail polish and biting her bottom lip, fighting to sit still. When she grew bored with chipping her nail polish, she resorted to thumbing at her necklace, sawing it back and forth along the chain, creating the most irritating sound. Lydia calmly placed her hand on Nikita's, signalling her to put her necklace away. Nikita flashed a sad apologetic smile as she tucked her necklace in her shirt. The two of them clearly had no interest in being here, none of them wanted to talk about their feelings or everyday stresses.

They were subjected here by their Principal, Nikita lacking respect for authority, and Lydia fresh off another screaming meltdown.

Ms. Morell wore a friendly smile, already much more genuine in comparison to Gerard Argent. Although a brain-dead mule was far more likely to show more kindness than their brutish Principal, really the bar wasn't set all that high.

"So to begin. Tell me how your mornings went." Their counselor using a honeyed tone, not too oversaturated in sweetness. Ms. Morell really knew how to speak to others without making them sound like a child, something even Nikita could respect.

" Same old nightmares, same old shit." Nikita half muttering, not caring for this conversation.

This seemed to pique at Morell's interest, her sharply arched brows raised. "Nightmares? What nightmares?"

Nikita shrugged her shoulders, leaning back into her seat. "I don't really remember much." A bold faced lie, she remembered them clearer than day.

"What do you remember?"

Even Lydia was staring at Nikita with a quizzical glance, concern dancing behind her green eyes.

Nikita leaned forward, dropping her voice, as if to make sure only the three of them could hear. Ms. Morell leaned in as well, ready for a revelation.

"Are you scared, Nikita Grace?" The words felt funny, Nikita hearing them said in her own voice instead of the mysterious rough voice that had been haunting her dreams night after night. Even with her voice it sounded so insidious.

Now she was picturing the golden glowing halo belonging to her faceless angel.

Ms. Morell pulled back, her lips pursed together. "What does that mean?"

The irritated teenager let out a puff of air. "I don't know, aren't you the one with a master's degree and a professional license? You tell me."

One could tell Miss. Morell had put up with smart-mouths like Nikita before. Her ways were unflinching, her patience higher than any normal human being. " Unfortunately I can't interpret dreams."

"Well that's a shame." Nikita feigning disappointment.

"I know you two girls went through an awful trauma the night of the Winter Formal. Neither I nor the school can force you girls to be here." Ms Morell making herself clear, a hint of concern glinting behind her dark eyes. "But believe me when I say my only intentions are to help you. I'm here to listen to you girls without judgement. The only way I can help is if you two agree to give this a try."

Lydia looked to Nikita with perpetual annoyance, Ms. Morell still couldn't manage to buy them even with her empathetic pep talk. Yet she was kind enough where the girls would give her a minute of their time, and see if their counselor could keep to her words.

"Alright." Nikita agreed on behalf of them both. "How does this go?"

Ms. Morell's smile grew, delighted in their participation. "We will start with something simple, test the waters for now."

She shuffled cards in her hands, Lydia's curious olive eyes falling upon the stark white cards, each with a different splotch of ink on them.

"Rorschach?" Lydia inquired.

"That's right, Lydia." Ms. Marin's dark eyes pulling the creases around the delicate skin there with her smile. "What do you girls see?" She asked holding up the first card.

"That one guy's face from Watchmen." Nikita, finding herself to be so clever, even snorting to herself. She looks to Lydia, to see her joke go over her friend's head...of course Lydia doesn't watch superhero movies.

"Let's focus here, Nikita." Ms. Morell replied. "What do you two girls see here?"

Nikita squinted hard, seeing nothing within the abstract mess of blotches.

"Butterfly." Lydia finally said.

Ms. Morell's lips pulled into a smile and she nodded approvingly, moving them onto the next card. Another mass of black ink.

"Butterfly." Lydia repeated again, the corner of Nikita's lips twitching just the slightest, already seeing where this was going. She decides to sit back and watch the show.

After the fourth or fifth butterfly Ms. Morell grew tired with Lydia's antics, reluctantly pulling out the last card. Nikita saw Lydia stiffen from the corner of her eyes, a sudden silent trepidation grabbing the redhead and refusing to let her go.

"Lydia." Nikita's voice soft as if not to startle her. Her tired mossy eyes went back to the card, seeing absolutely nothing there. It seemed Lydia had seen something, something rather frightening.

"Rhopalocera." Lydia answered with her usual confidence. Not a stammer in her word, the color returning back to her round face.

Ms. Morell looked to Nikita with question, waiting on the translation. "Butterfly." Nikita responded.

Their counselor gave out a long exasperated sigh, clearly no one had warned her in advance about the handful she would be dealing with when it came to Nikita Grace and Lydia Martin. Lydia got up at once, seemingly done with the session even though they had barely begun. She didn't even excuse herself, just grabbed her purse and walked out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

"Well that was interesting." Nikita mused, kicking back in her seat. "Thank you for that session, Marin, I'm feeling replenished already."

Ms. Morell shook her head, disappointment pulling at the pretty features on her face. "Nikita. You can only hide behind your mask for so long. One day the veil will be lifted, and even your sarcasm can't armor you. Don't be afraid to open up, no one here wants to hurt you. You need to trust those you surround yourself with."

Nikita had taken poorly to the choice of words her counselor had chosen, finding it to be far too intrusive for her own liking. She wasn't ready to open up yet, not to anybody. She couldn't tell Ms. Morell of the many terrifying drawings of something wild and vicious that had begun to plague her sketchbook, the constant nightmares that haunted her dreams, the sleepwalking, the coins, the paranoia that everyone knew something she did not. Her thoughts becoming more far-fetched each and every day.

"You would think i'm crazy." Nikita mutters to herself and walks to the door, her bag slung lazily over her arm.

"I would never think that of you, Nikita. I need you to trust m-"

"Sometimes." She started, pausing, throwing Ms. Morell off. " I think I'm not actually here." Nikita admitted, giving Morell a juicy bone to chew on. Her hand coming to rest on the door frame, her body halfway out of the office.

Ms. Morell got up to her feet instantly, alarmed by such a concerning thing to say. "What do you mean Nikita?"

Nikita's fingers now came to the gnarly gash at the back of her head, feeling the rough stitches that had yet to dissolve. Her hands always having to move, always having to touch things or pick at things when her nerves got the better of her. Ms. Morell promised that no judgements would pass if Nikita were to open up, this was her testing that ever so slowly.

"I think that maybe...I died that night. And this...this is my personal hell." She admitted quietly, eyes on her shoes, not sure if Ms. Morell even heard her. This was as much as Nikita could open up, she left before another word was uttered between them.

Nikita hurried down the hall, looking for Lydia who had left so abruptly. She passed through full classrooms, peeking through the windowed doors as she made her way. Everyone was having a seemingly normal day except for her. It was when she rounded a corner did she see Lydia standing before a trophy case. Nikita grew increasingly worried the closer she got to the redhead. Lydia had been so terribly off lately, her ways were growing to be worse and erratic much like Nikita's. No one knew how to help Lydia because nobody understood what was going on, so instead of sticking around, people started to abandon ship. Nikita didn't plan on leaving Lydia's side, no matter the terrible things the redhead had done to her in the past.

She stood wordlessly next to Lydia, her eyes glancing up and down the trophy cabinet. Nikita would have smiled when her eyes landed on a photo of a young Derek Hale, but the bitterness still remained like a terrible flavor coating her tongue. On the same shelf as Derek was another photo. A photo of a young lanky wrestler whose shaggy sandy hair made it seem like his head was far too big for his thin body. But those shocking glacial eyes were far too similar. It was a picture of a teenage Alex Vincent Jones, just seeing his stupid face made her roll her eyes. She wondered if Derek and Alex knew each other, seeing how they both went to Beacon Hills High the same years. The two of them captains of their respective teams sporting letterman jackets.

"I saw him again, Niki." Lydia's voice breaking into Nikita's concentration.

Lydia's lower lip began to tremble along with the rest of her body. She was visibly upset, her puffy eyes filling with tears once more. It was such a rare sight to see Lydia looking vulnerable, for her facade had been so impenetrable. Nikita's hand came to rest on the small of Lydia's back, and she pulled her friend in for a hug. There were times where Nikita had to pretend to be strong so that she mustn't crumble, and today was one of those days for her.

"I see him everywhere." Lydia's words muffled in Nikita's shoulder, her body shaking with sobs. Lydia's trembling voice sent an icy chill down Nikita's spine and throughout her body.

"See who, Lydia?" Nikita's mossy eyes scanning, distracted by her own faint reflection in the glass before zeroing in on a photo of Peter Hale in his youth. There he was with his sharp jaw, bright eyes, and devil may care smile, just like Nikita had remembered him. The smallest of smiles appeared on her lips, looking to him fondly, she had missed what he used to be, long before the house fire.

"See the man with the melted face."

Nikita's eyes shot wide at the mention of the man with the melted face, her eyes having yet to leave Peter Hale's photo. She had blinked multiple eyes before pulling away from her friend, stepping out of the hug. Nikita was far too stunned to question Lydia, from stopping her from walking back to class, leaving Nikita before the trophy case with her arms limp at her side. It took her a moment to fully digest what had been said, and now Nikita realized that she hadn't even seen Peter since her accident.

Her hand shot to the bottom of her bag, blindly fishing around for her cell phone. With no avail and all the junk swimming in her purse Nikita decided to dump all of its contents onto the ground. Everything was out on display now, from loose change, tampons, to old tubes of lip gloss mixed with sand, lint, and hair. How the hell she had sand in there was beyond her. Nikita grabbed her phone, dialing front desk to the hospital.

She waited with a bated breath as the phone rung, Nikita's heart rate climbing with each second. "C'mon...c'mon!" Nikita on her knees before the trophy case, passer bys shooting her confused glances. "C'mon."

A much too cheery voice answered, Nikita almost thought it was automated."Front desk at Beacon Hills Hospital, how can I assist you?"

"Yes hi!" She sprung to her feet, eyes back on Peter's high school photo. "I would like to be connected to Peter Hale's room. I believe it's room 113." Nikita waited while the front desk assistant hummed to herself, she could hear her typing now, bringing up Peter's information.

"It looks like Peter Hale is no longer at the hospital, he's been checked out."

Nikita's mouth went dry, her palm sweating around her phone. "Wh-what?" She managed to choke out.

"It seems he's been transferred to the UCLA medical center. That's as much information I can give you."

The icy hand that had gripped her heart loosened, allowing Nikita to feel at ease once again. That was a terrifyingly close call, her body still shaking from the short felt panic. Nikita couldn't explain what Lydia was seeing, or why she was referring to Peter Hale when mentioning her walking nightmares. She was certain Lydia knew of Peter and his tragedy, the entire town seemed to know his story, and what he looked like now. Nikita would write this off as a coincidence, Peter was hundreds of miles away from them, and stuck in a vegetative state.

* * *

"I can't believe he bailed, I'm so sorry, Nikita." Melissa spoke from the passenger seat of the car, her body turned so that she was facing the teeanger who sat in the back seat of the car. Her dark and warm eyes full of empathy, the small smile on her face remained hopeful.

Nikita looked to the empty seat next to her where Scott was supposed to be. Yet he was nowhere to be found. "It's okay, Melissa. I'm sure he had a good reason. He must be hitting those books pretty hard!" She forced herself to come up with some lame excuse in order to make Melissa feel better.

No doubt Scott sucked, but his mother was a saint.

She flashed the most endearing smile she could muster for Melissa's sake, not wanting her to worry.

"He's a good kid, probably just hanging out with Stiles." Walter adding on from the driver's seat, his eyes glued dutifully to the road ahead of them.

'Yeah, or Derek." She thought to herself.

Nikita cringed in the back seat watching Melissa and Walter give each other sappy eyes and love drunk smiles, their noses rubbing against each other with eskimo kisses. In all honesty their displays of affection wasn't much, however it made Nikita think of opening the car door and rolling out into oncoming traffic. Perhaps she was being a tad bit over dramatic, or perhaps she was much too peeved in watching her father being happy.

It was stuck up and childish of her to think such thoughts, but she didn't care. Plus she was much too perplexed figuring out how Walter ended up with such a caring, adorable, and kind woman. She and Melissa had only met a handful times in small encounters, and there was no denying that Nikita liked Melissa. Even if Melissa made her miss her own mother.

"So you two must really like each other." Nikita mused, her finger following a water droplet across the car window.

"I mostly tolerate him." Melissa throwing a wink towards Nikita, turning to face her again.

Yeah, Nikita really liked Melissa McCall.

She decided a short distraction was much needed, Nikita fished out her phone texting Stiles right away.

'Any idea where Scott is?" - N

After a few seconds Stiles responded fast, much too fast, like he were eager and waiting for her text all day.

' Probably with his not girlfriend.'- S

She smirked at that, Stiles in the know with Scott and Allison's secret and still managing to poke fun at how obvious the two of them were.

'You mean not Allison?'- N

'Definitely NOT Allison.' - S

Nikita's gaze went back out the window, smiling to herself and shaking her head. Stiles was one of the few people who could get her smiling and feeling bashful like this.

'You're a good friend you know, putting up with Scott and all.' - N

She bit down on her bottom lip, now concerned if she were being too forward, too desperate. Nikita knew she was supposed to be playing it cool. Even though she was certain Stiles liked her, and he knew she liked him back, their pieces were falling together slowly. The two of them taking their time in whatever this was, shly testing the warm waters together.

" I don't like to brag or come off as the egotistical sort."- S

'I just feel the need to give back to the helpless and needy'-S

' Scott is the very definition of helpless and needy, a human puppy.'- S

She rolls her eyes at this, Scott was far from being an innocent puppy, not with the secrets he was holding back. Once again the paranoid thoughts of Stiles keeping secrets from her begins to creep upon Nikita, such rational thoughts hindering her from even a seconds worth of happiness. Instead, Nikita presses forth, ignoring that nagging voice in her head. Stiles had no reason to lie to her, always promising to have her back no matter what.

' Oh, what have I done to deserve such a humble man in my life?'- N

' Don't forget extremely cute and lovable ontop of all that humbleness.' - S

Nikita snorts a laugh and texts back. ' That's so up for debate.' -N

'A smooth silver tongued prince.' - S

'Stiles...no.' - N

'A sexy looking beast' - S

'OMG Stiles, I just threw up in my mouth a little.' - N

'Yeah, I tend to have that effect on girls.' - S

"At least we know what your special talent is.' -N

'You suck so much, Nikita.'- S

Her smile grew upon insulting Stiles, there was something undoubtedly enjoyable when it came to teasing him, and him teasing her back.

'Isn't that your job? Being a Cyclone and all?' - N

'BlOW THEM away Stiles ;]'- N

'Pervert.' - S

They had finally pulled up to the butter yellow home at the end of the street. Nikita eyed the intricate fingers of vines that covered the front of the home, they had finally blossomed into delicate vibrant purple flowers. The flowers such a beautiful contrast against the gloomy weather.

Nikita stepped out of the car, her hands running down her navy floral skirt, working any possible wrinkles out. Walter was busy sending up a toxic Giorgio Armani cloud as he doused himself over and over with cologne in the car. Melissa stepped out of the car with her eyes squinted, coughing out her lungs and welcoming fresh air, even she smelt like him now.

The three of them walked to the front door of the Jones house, Walter rapping his knuckles against the white oak door. Nikita's attention went back to the purple flowers growing along the walls of the home, they were so pretty and dainty. She couldn't help herself, her hand slowly reached out to pluck one of the flowers.

"Nikita." Her father's voice stern, even though she was behind him, he seemed to have read her mind.

She wasn't a fan of being told no or anyone expressing a sort of authority over her, especially if it was someone she couldn't take seriously in the first place. But she didn't want to be rude and ruin anything on the Jones property. Her hand recoiling back.

Just then the door opened.

Miss. Texas pageant queen herself had opened the door. Olivia's mouth opened with the biggest smile one could wear, the shrillest of screams raked at Nikita's ear drums, perhaps she could challenge Lydia.

"HELLO!" The petite blonde greeted and pulled Walter into a tight hug.

"I'm so glad y'all could make it!" Her caramel colored curls springing with her bounce. She waved a small hand, inviting them inside the house.

Warmth seeped into their bones as soon as they stepped inside the gorgeous home. Nikita had been here before and appreciated it much the same. This time the fireplace was turned on, soft classic italian music drifting throughout the house. Such a picturesque home for such a picturesque family.

As if on cue, Brody himself descended the stairs, with his dark hair gelled, his fingers working at the cuffs of his black button down. He graced them all with his dazzling white smile, dark bourbon eyes alit with mirth.

"Nikita! Melissa! You two look radiant as ever." Brody with his arms wide, motioning the two of them. His glance fell upon Walter and lips pulled to the side. "Walter... I wish I could say the same."

Walter clutched at his heart in the most dramatic fashion. "You hurt me so!"

Melissa grabbed Walter's chin and smushed his face in her hands. "De qué me habla? Este hombre guapo me gano el corazon!"

Brody and Walter hugged it out like two old college roommates, they were what Nikita would consider 'best-bros'. The adults had gone off to the living room to sit before the fireplace, Brody having gone off to get drinks, leaving Nikita awkwardly in the foyer. Her eyes traveled across the home from where she stood, to see the large wooden dinner table which they would be eating at. It was already set up with fancy china dinner ware, a beautiful but small crystal chandelier hanging above.

It was the sound of distant rambunctious laughter that had garnered her attention, she knew that stupid and infectious laugh anywhere.

Nikita followed the laughter through the house, walking past the door frame that once measured the height of the brothers, past the kitchen where the most mouth watering savory scents wafted in the air, and found herself in front of the door that must have lead to the basement.

She opened the door and walked down the creaking wooden steps, feeling the slight bend beneath her weight. The first thing her eyes fell upon in the dimly lit basement was the rows of hunting rifles neatly stacked horizontally on the wall, surprised by the number of guns on display. Off to the corner was an impressive and rather large black drum kit, next to a few crates overflowing with comic books. Jonesy himself had yet to see Nikita, his back towards her as both he and Alex were far too invested in their video game. While she was excited to see her friend, Nikita would have to put up with the shit-bag older brother, and that was something that nobody on this damn planet would do voluntarily.

'Jailbait is here." Alex announced without peeling his eyes off the screen.

"Dude!" Jonesy elbowed his brother, only eliciting laughter from Alex.

Nikita rolled her eyes, letting his childish nickname blow past her. He just didn't want her to live down that one time she had made a complete ass out of herself assuming he had any interest in her; Alex couldn't make it clear enough. Nikita stepped off the bottom step in time for Jonesy to get up and sweep her in a hug, pulling her tiny frame up so that the tips of her toes just barely brushed the ground and he swung her side to side.

Thus further proving what she already knew, tall people give the best hugs.

"You play video games?" Jonesy inquiring, walking her over to sit on the couch with them. He sat between her and Alex, serving as the perfect wall between the two.

"A little." She shrugged, glancing around the poorly lit basement, it looked more like Jonesy's hangout lounge.

'Sweet!' Jonesy hopped up to his feet, to go insert a new game, absolutely delighted. Nikita and Alex were seated on the couch, giving each other glares of distaste now. Neither of them caring much for the other.

"Chicks dig Mario!" Jonesy happily chirped when he lazily plopped back into the couch. He quickly snatched the wii remote from Alex, handing it gracefully to Nikita. Her smile grew because of the sweet gesture, but also loving how peeved Alex looked.

"It's true, must be that epic mustache. Girl's dig thick mustaches." Nikita pestering on.

"It's a shame JJ over here can't sprout a single hair." Alex muttered out without missing a beat.

"GOD SHUT UP ALEX!" Jonesy snapping at his older brother, humiliated, Alex doing his best to hide his smile. Nikita only rolling her eyes at him. That was the second eyeroll in a matter of fifteen minutes.

Her eyes transfixed on the side of Alex's perfectly smooth face. "I don't see any hair on your face..." Nikita so daringly pointed out.

"Yeah, Fuckface." Jonesy agreeing with her, crossing his arms.

Alex let out an exaggerated sigh and got up, seemingly not wanting to be bothered by two pesky teenagers. "I choose to shave." His fingers coming to rub the sharp slant of his jaw. "So it doesn't chafe at tender delicate skin."

"Ewww." Nikita and Jonesy said in unison.

Alex had gone behind them to the bookshelf in the rear of the basement, she could feel his cold gaze upon the back of her head again, eyeing the ugly gash. Nikita turned to look at him, his curious glance breaking from her to return to the shelf of books, doing an awful job of pretending like his attention had been there all along.

"Hey, Lex, can I call you that?" She started.

"...No."

Nikita garnering his attention in hopes it wouldn't return to the scar at the back of her head. "I was wondering-"

"-I'd rather you didn't enlighten me in your thoughts and wonders, Jailbait. I truly need to hold onto my brain cells, you talking and me existing in this shit-stain town has already dumbed me down significantly." Alex's fingers skimmed across the shelf to pick up dust, examining it on his fingers with much distaste.

Nikita ignored the cruel jab, finding it easier and easier to ignore him each time, his words blew right past her. "I was wondering if you knew Derek Hale?"

She had seen the photo of their younger selves back inside the Beacon Hills High trophy case. Pre-pubescent Alex with his unusually large head -his gangly body having yet to grow- stood out to her, clad in his red wrestling get up. And she remembered the photo of a teenage Derek Hale. Nikita wanted to know if the two of them had known each other while in high school, they had attended Beacon Hills High during the same years. It was part of her always curious nature, Nikita always wanting to stick her nose where it didn't belong. This time she was hoping Alex could lead her to something, perhaps the secret which Derek and Scott were so desperate to hide.

Alex stopped examining the dust on his fingers, glacial eyes lifted to cut across the room, narrowing on Nikita piercing her and pinning her in place. She could only swallow nervously, even Jonesy had frozen.

" Derek Hale? Hmm...the one who looks like a poorly done police sketch of the kind of guy who would rob a gas station for a box of rubbers and a twinkie? Has major staring issues and can only communicate through various sorts of grunts? Never heard of him." A subtle smile came to tug on the corner of Alex's lips.

"Uhmmm." Was all Nikita could say rather dumbly as Alex walked up the steps and out of the basement. She looked to Jonesy who could only shrug his shoulders. Clearly Alex knew Derek, and clearly held some sort of gripe over him.

* * *

Nikita had been pushing her food around her plate, not really interested in eating at the moment. Walter must have told Olivia what her favorite food was, for it was sitting right there on her plate. Coq Au vin, a hearty and flavorful meal perfect to combat the cold weather outside. However wonderfully done it was made, it didn't hold a candle compared to her mother's version of the dish. And perhaps Olivia's was much better...it just wasn't the same.

Nothing really seemed appetizing to Nikita anymore, everything just seemed so bland lately, like much parts of her life currently. While the table was abuzz with conversation, Nikita was left silent, only listening to bits and pieces of conversation. She looked up to see Alex is the only one noticing her playing with her food. He may be an asshole but Alex seems to have impeccable standards when it comes to table manners, it's like he had been raised to dine in a palace. Even the way he holds his fork and knife seems so much more poised than the serial slasher grip she has on her knife. She notices her elbows are on the table, while his aren't.

Alex shakes his head in disappointment, and it's the last straw for her. She's been putting up with his shit all night.

"So, Alex. Tell me about yourself." She forces the most charming smile, speaking above the ongoing conversation between Olivia and Melissa. "Are you working right now? What do you do?"

Her smile only deepens upon seeing how silent he has become now. His face may be stiller than calm waters, but how that silence of his is screaming uncontrollably on the inside. She had asked what could potentially be labeled as the worst thing to ask anyone in their Twenties. All that was left to ask was if he was seeing anyone and what his goals and aspiration in life were.

Everyone in this town had heard of Alex Vincent Jones, a sort of prodigal child, a teen genius. The town had rode on Alex's coattails as a child, believing him to be the next and only greatest thing to come out of the town. He had failed himself and the town immensely. Nikita already knew the answers to her questions, he had nothing going for him, Alex was just a star that had burned out bright. She just loved watching him seeth for a change. And for once, he didn't have a smart reply.

The table had gone silent and tense, Nikita having taken a pleasant night into another direction.

"That was lovely, Olivia!" Melissa dabbing the corner of her mouth, and carefully changing the sensitive topic. "I can't even begin to imagine what's for dessert."

Olivia leaned forward to whisper ' Pull apart pumpkin cinnamon bread."

"You know who would love pumpkin cinnamon bread?" Nikita spearing the carrot on her plate, short of patience. "Peter." She glances at her father who is choking upon his wine, Melissa tapping his back. "What happened to Uncle Peter?"

Everyone at the table exchanged confused glances, except for Alex who was sitting slouched with his arms crossed, looking ready to tear her head off.

Melissa's dazzling smile graces them all, and she playfully slaps Walter's arm. "No le dijistes? idiota. I swear he's so busy he forgets everything."

Walter was drinking his wine rather fast now, letting out an 'ahh' after setting his glass down.

"Our beloved Peter has been transferred to Los Angeles. Where we found a match for a skin graft for his face. This procedure can take several months." Brody nodding along with Walter, yet neither of them seemed particularly proud of excited over the news.

She had doubted her own father for a minute. Nikita couldn't believe she was questioning the integrity of those she should be able to trust. Miss. Morell had asked her to trust and lower her walls around those she surrounds herself with, yet it was so hard to do.

"Ok." Was all she could say as Nikita continued to push her food around her plate.

* * *

She and Jonesy had stepped out to the back porch, Nikita marveling over their treehouse at the mouth of the woods, excited to see him make his way towards it. It was cold outside, Jonesy kind enough to let Nikita borrow a big oversized grey puffy jacket. It smelled just like Jonesy, far too much axe spray, but she preferred it so much more over Jackson's nose burning Tom Ford cologne. He had climbed the rope ladder first, since Nikita was in a skirt. Her mossy eyes lit with a childlike excitement upon seeing the interior of the the treehouse. The cedar walls were covered in science and space posters, a few band posters littered the walls here and there. Beneath her feet was an orange shaggy carpet, to the corner a mini fridge with a lava lamp sitting atop. White christmas lights were strung near the ceiling, providing the only source of light other than the lava lamp. Three cozy looking beanbag chairs were slumped before an old battery run CD player. Nikita spotted a mess of books and graphic novels scattered across the green bean bag chair, most likely Jonesy's reading spot.

"This is so cool." Nikita squealed out, every kid had always dreamed of a treehouse.

Jonesy had placed his hands on his hips, staring around the inside of the treehouse with a prideful gleam in his light eyes. "Thanks, my father, brother, and I made it ourselves! It was a sort of bonding project."

That's all it took for her voice to reach a terribly high pitch. "That's so cute!" Nikita gushing sappily.

Jonesy let out a chuckle and walked out to the deck, seating himself and letting his long thin legs dangle over the edge, Nikita came to sit next to him. The two next to each other shoulder to shoulder, peering down to see Melissa and Olivia sitting on the back porch enjoying mulled wine. Olivia had the men folk wash the dishes, clean the tables, and watch after the dessert as it baked in the oven. From here Nikita could smell the delicious scent of pumpkin, maple, and cinnamon wafting into the cold winter's night. She scooted closer to Jonesy to warm up, the cold nipping at them both, leaving the tips of their noses pink.

"It really solidified us as a family, you know? After we were adopted." Jonesy's legs swing back and forth. "And he wasn't always like this. There was actually a time where he was a quiet and well behaved kid. Affectionate too."

Her mouth twisted to the side and her brows met together, lost upon what Jonesy was talking about.

"Huh?"

"Alex." Jonesy informing her. "It's hard realizing the person you admire and look up to the most is a bit of a dick."

"Oh." Her own legs swinging in unison to his, them meeting in perfect harmony. "He's not too bad." Nikita lied, tucking a strand of her chestnut hair shyly behind her ear. She wasn't going to talk poorly about Jonesy's older brother, no matter how hard he sucked.

"Hmm." Jonesy looked off towards the house. "No...I'm pretty sure he's a bag of dicks." The two of them laugh for a moment.

"Hey, look I know things have been rough since you came back to school." Jonesy having to turn the conversation into something serious.

"That's an understatement." She mutters and rests her chin on her hands, holding onto the beam of the tree house. Nikita felt like she had been dangling by a thread, school was becoming less and less appealing for her, like most things.

Jonesy gently nudges her shoulder, offering her a small smile. "I don't ever want you to feel alone. I'm always here if you need me, if you want to talk. I may not have the best advice, but I can always listen...And let me know if anyone is bugging you."

Nikita smiles back, for once feeling lucky of those she's surrounded herself with. " There aren't enough trash cans for that."

He lets out a chuckle, dark strands of hair falling above those soft blue and mischievous eyes.

"I'll find a way to take out all the trash if I have to."

* * *

\- Derek's POV-

"Did you ever wonder what happened to her those five days she was gone?" Scott's voice echoed in his head, words from their conversation from a few days ago. Yet they had stuck with him since. Even Gerard Argent was onto her.

The question itself was an itch in the back corner of Derek's mind, and he now decided it was time to scratch at it.

It was the dead of night.

The town was held under a sleepy spell, not a soul walking the streets at the hour of the wolf. Here he was, looking at Nikita's window, standing beneath a dull and buzzing streetlamp. He could hear her soft and steady breathing, she was deep asleep. The Alpha's fingers snaked through his midnight hair, his airy sigh fogging out his mouth and into the chill night. He couldn't believe he was about to do this.

Derek unzipped his leather jacket, allowing him the space to crouch low. The Alpha lopped towards the house, then scale up the walls to reach Nikita's window. She had left it open a few inches, allowing Derek to snake his hand inside and unlatch it, sliding it wide open. He's invited with a pleasant warmth, the familiar scent of her white Jasmine perfume. Derek admires the twinkling fairy lights on copper wiring that decorates her room, making a mental note of how whimsical they look, and wondering if Isaac would like it if he were to decorate his end of the subway car with it.

Perhaps it would cheer up the young Beta.

The Alpha shakes his head, now is not the ideal time for pondering upon abandon subway car interior designs and home-making.

Nikita is bundled up in a cloud like white comforter, with just her face showing. Derek notices how sunken in her cheeks are starting to look, the bones to her cheeks looking sharper than the usual softness she used to carry. He's heard how rough school has been on her, how she's having troubles adjusting to her life; clearly it's taken a toll on her.

His fingers come to brush a strand of hair out of her face, it's the most affection he's shown her since the two had reunited after many years. Derek misses her, more than he cares to admit. He knows she misses him too, and his heart aches that he can't be allowed to have this one good thing in his life. If Derek were to ask for anything apart from resurrecting his family, it would be for a world where he is allowed to be next to Nikita, spend his days with her, be the family she needs. But his world was so cruel and unforgiving. Nikita is such an affectionate girl begging only to be loved, that even just being in her presence fills his heart with a warmth that he desperately holds onto.

His eyes narrow on her, she's such a still sleeper, like a mummy in a sarcophagus. His brows dance up, once again listening to her heartbeat to make sure she's actually alive. "Jesus." He whispers to himself.

It's in her room he hopes to find answers as to where she's been for those days she had gone missing. A small voice in his mind keeps whispering the words 'Kanima! Kanima! Kanima!'. He knew it wasn't possible for Nikita to be the Kanima, someone so gentle and fragile couldn't inflict such carnage. Could she?

He looks around, even her room looks delicate with the glass jars of dried baby's breath, and a corner of stuffed animals. There he spots an assortment of teddy bears, a purple dragon, even an orange fluffy stuffed cat.

Derek spots her desk where a small pile of clothes are building up, and walks over. Her clothes smell normal, much like her, she hadn't been near any supernatural creatures, not even Scott. He finds a sketchbook beneath the mess of books, deciding to open it and peer into what could possibly be inside. He found exactly what he expected to find. Many vast sketches of the human figure, Nikita had such a keen eye for anatomy, even miniscule details of faces, ever since she was a child. She loved hyper-realism, and she was damn good at it. Derek flipped through many more pages, his brows dancing up with surprise upon finding a peculiar one. His own face sketched upon her notebook, taking up half a page. Derek lit up with glee, admiring his own sketch,smiling ear to ear and feeling a sense of pride for even making it into her notebook. However the further he delved into Nikita's sketchbook, the far more concerned he became. Hundred images of eyes began to litter her pages, the more pages he passed, the more detailed they became in shape, hair sprouting from the sides; until Derek came upon the unmistakable image of werewolf eyes. Not just any pair of wolf eyes, but that of Peter's, savage and red as blood.

The familiar sense of dread filled him to the brim as he rapidly skimmed the pages, endless amounts of red savage eyes obsessively and angrily scribbled over any and every inch of white space. Derek's own pulse was beginning to rise, he looked to a peacefully sleeping Nikita with bewilderment. Was she starting to overcome her acute amnesia and remembering what actually happened to her that night? Or had she known the entire time?

' Kanima! Kanima! Kanima!' The incessant voice growing louder in his head. "She fell from the edge of the earth and walked away with hardly a scratch."

Derek slapped the notebook shut, slamming his intrusive thoughts shut along with it. Nikita didn't even stir from her deep slumber. The Alpha let out a sigh, once again reassuring himself that Nikita wasn't the blood thirsty lizard running around on a murderous rampage. He was just thankful Nikita was alive and far from harm's reach, where he had carefully placed her.

His grey eyes landed on the silver necklace around her neck, now visible when Nikita turned to her side. Derek could still remember how Cora's matching necklace would glint in the sun, Cora who was terribly forgetful and lost things all the time managed to keep the silver heart around her neck until the day she died.

"I may not have been able to save her." Derek's voice a shaking whisper. "But I'll do everything I can to keep you safe, Nikita. I promise."

Derek walked to the window, it was when he was halfway out did he turn to look at Nikita one last time. He had just vowed to keep her safe no matter what, but would ever a moment come where his hands were forced to end her life? He swallowed thickly, feeling the horrible claws of nausea shredding him ruthlessly from the inside.

He never wanted another innocent girl's blood on his hands ever again.

* * *

I hope you guys enjoyed what I wrote! Thank you Galanerd for helping with the Spanish, and thank you to your mothership! Feralpoo, thanks for helping me tweak that ending.

I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER, it'll be Stiles and Nikita's first date :]]] And shit's about to go down.

Please leave me love, your thoughts, and opinions. They are my life fuel.

Also to those of you who have already read this story, please make sure there aren't future spoilers in your reviews! You guys are the best.


	25. Chapter 25

Hey guys! I'm so FREAKING EXCITED FOR THIS CHAPTER!

I want to say thank you to those of you who are kind enough to leave me reviews, your thoughts, and opinions. You guys have been so supportive. AND IM FINALLY AT 100 followers, GOD DAMN. I hope to raise those numbers (wish me luck, it's been a challenge!)

shoutout to:

Itbelongsinamuseum, galanerd, chosenpen, peachy48, feral lahey, wildrecklessyouth, theweretype, princessdarkness12, and Maddie Rose. Thank you guys so much!

* * *

" _ **Are you scared, Nikita Grace?"**_

Rich hazel eyes opened to the lush canopy of green, the black voids of her pupils shrinking upon morning's dim light.

Nikita had woken in the dirt, head resting on her right arm, body twisted on her stomach. For carrying such an elegant last name, Nikita was far from waking up gracefully. She lifted her head ever so slightly, taking in her surroundings with sleep fogged eyes, letting out a groan and dropping her head; defeated. She was back in the middle of the woods, having woken from that awful dream.

Her fingers curled over loose coins placed carefully in the palm of her hand, feeling the weight of them there. They were still cold in her grips. Nikita considered going back to sleep for a moment, if it wasn't so goddamn cold. Her knees drew up to her chest -a fetal position- in attempt to keep warm, but it was no use.

Nikita got up to her feet, the quarters tight in her grip, threatening to spill out between the cracks of her fingers. The last time she had woken in the woods she had awoken beneath Suicide Hill. This time she had awoken elsewhere within the woods. Judging by her surroundings she was far north. A narrow creek ran in front of her, the stream constant and flowing. Whoever had been planting quarters on Nikita had laid out a trail of them for her to follow.

Her fist shot in the air and shook, rattling the coins inside. "Thanks for these!" Nikita shouted out loud to whoever could be listening, surely someone must have been watching her. " I'll add these to my fucking collection!" -Indeed she was collecting these in her piggy bank.-

Not a sound was made, no answer from within in the wild woods.

"SHOW YOURSELF YOU COWARD!" Nikita's small frame shaking with untamed anger. She had no idea what she would do if a person were to reveal themselves. Charge at them? Chase after them with a stick? Give them a piece of her mind?'

Still no answer save for the birds that had taken flight, spooked by her shouting.

The morning mist was starting to dot her cheeks with condensation, Nikita's bare knees knocking together from the bitter cold. It was unwise of her to go to bed with only an oversized tee-shirt on, she should have known better by now.

Her fingers went to the back of her head, pushing through the knots and thick coarse hair to feel the roughness of her stitches. They had yet to dissolve like they were intended to, she was still in the process of healing. It could take another three full months to heal properly, and even then it would leave an unsightly looking scar. Nikita shook her head, she wasn't going to get answers standing here, and there was no way in hell she was going to follow a trail of quarters that lead even deeper into the woods. It seemed like a sure-as-shit way to meet an axe murderer, and Nikita's life didn't need any more excitement, she had enough trauma to last her a lifetime.

Her arms came to wrap around herself, providing the only warmth she could before gaining enough courage to find herself to be resolute enough to move forward and find her way back home.

* * *

Several hours later a white mini cooper had pulled into the driveway of the Argent home. Nikita sat in her car just before going in, attempting with a quiet desperation to wrestle the butterflies storming inside her stomach. Tonight was going to be her first date with Stiles, and she was so unbelievably excited. During the midst of chaos, loss of self, and constant detachment of reality she found Stiles to be her rock; her anchor. He had given her a reason to rise up and take on the day with a brave face, he was currently her only reason to smile; the only thing going right in her life.

It was true, the two of them were shy flirts, just barely skimming the surface of what their relationship could mean. Nikita had been so hesitant to get into a relationship with Stiles, especially after Jackson. To be frank, she was not in a good place mentally, and so terrified of entire thing was such a leap in the dark for her, even though she knew Stiles would be there to catch her. She had allowed herself this one good thing, taking her time to wade out in the warm waters of Stiles' affection. He had been so patient throughout it all, allowing her to come to him without feeling even an ounce of pressure.

And now she was smiling like an idiot just thinking of him.

Nikita lowered the car mirror to apply her sheer lip gloss over her berry colored lips. It was nothing but a clear gloss that made her lips feel warm and tingly. She smiled at her reflection, having finally perfected her winged liner, and feeling happy with the way she looked today. She had somehow managed to look put together despite all that she was going through, such a grand illusion.

It was then, through the reflection did she catch the most peculiar thing. Nikita watched in horror as a half naked man dangled from the second story window of the home across from Allison's. Her mossy eyes grew in size when the partially naked man let go of the window ledge and landed in the bushes below. Nikita's hand came to cover her gaping mouth, she had recognized the sandy haired gentleman.

It was Alex Vincent Jones.

An older woman with only a black bra on poked her head out the window from which he fell and hastily threw his clothes down at him, Nikita sunk in her seat muttering every curse word known to man repeatedly, hoping she wouldn't get caught watching, but proceeded viewing the oddity from her rearview mirror. Alex, who was only in his boxers, got up with his clothes in hand, brushing off his shoulder. He looked up at the window in time to see an exceedingly furious man screaming at him, most likely the woman's husband. The man swore he was going to grab his gun and put a crater in Alex's pretty face, Alex responded with only a chuckle, and carried on down the street as if nothing had happened. Like it were a casual saturday for him.

"What the actual fuck?" Nikita mouthed, sitting up straight when he was out of her sight. From the picture that was painted only seconds ago he must have been fooling around with a married woman and got caught doing it.

'Disgusting. Who does that?" Nikita thought to herself as she unbuckled her seatbelt and made her way up the door. It was wild thinking of truly different the brothers were in personality, one had the sweetest kindest disposition, and the other was as bitter as the cigarettes he smoked.

All thoughts of Alex ceased to exist from where she stood, in front of the Argent Home. Her hand hovered over the door, fingers curled to a fist, ready to knock. However she remembered the last time she had visited Allison, it was her aunt who had opened the door. Nikita felt hesitant and silly at once, hoping it wasn't leatherface Gerard Argent on the other side. She knocked anyways.

To her utter lack of surprise it was Gerard Argent who had opened the door. Nikita was beginning to think it was best for her to start texting Allison to come outside instead of going in. His dark dull eyes lit up and a smile pulled the sag of his skin tightly.

"Nikita, my darling, please come inside." Gerard with that always artificial retail worker voice of his. His eyes narrowed past her shoulder to catch the commotion of the cheating wife and angry husband coming from outside.

'I'm nobody's darling, old man." She wanted to say, but decided it was best if she just held her tongue, not wanting to initiate any sort of conversation.

Instead she gave him a forced but gracious smile, stepping into the foyer of the home. Nikita wanted to make a beeline for the stairs that headed straight to Allison's room, but Gerard had intercepted with a liver-spotted hand on her shoulder. Every muscles in her body stiffened and her skin screamed at his touch. Gerard recoiled his hand upon her distinct and precise reaction.

"I just wanted to make sure you're alright, Nikita."

She thinks to herself that his eyes are dark and beady, much like a shark, his smile just like one too.

"Especially with that poor head of yours." Gerard adds.

Nikita's fingers instinctively go to the back of her head, the stitches are still there. She already knows she won't ever truly heal, the puckered skin sending icy chills down her spine.

"Have you begun to remember anything , Nikita?" Gerard approaches Nikita, coming closer, she goes up a step, hands wrapped around the stair bannister. " What you're experiencing is acute amnesia. But there are possibilities that during recovery you can regain memory. Have you had any rare glimpses into the night of Winter formal? Anything at all?"

In front of him Gerard saw a weak girl, thinking he could crack her shell open if he kept up his incessant and abrasive tendencies. Play the nice guy to gain her trust, hold her under the high beams and interrogate her until she confessed to something. In reality Nikita couldn't remember anything after her and Jackson exchanged words in the woods, it went blank after that. She was left scratching at a bolted door in the recesses of her mind, hoping that the door would open, would answer her questions.

Those soulless eyes land on her necklace and at once she tucks it into her shirt, forcing him to look upon her gaze rather than the jewelry hanging off her neck. Nikita had remembered how Kate inspected it with the same curiosity, holding it in her filthy fingers as if she had the right to even touch it. Kate was the firestarter, the arsonist who had eviscerated the Hale's without mercy. Gerard must have known what Nikita's necklace was about, much like Kate had. Was he staring at it because he felt some sort of guilt?

"Why did Kate go after the Hale family?" Nikita came down from her step, leveling with Gerard so she could watch the muscles of his face sag when his smile shattered. She took pleasure in knowing she did that, she took his smile away. Gerard should have known better, if he were going to drill Nikita with intrusive questions, he should have been prepared to be barraged by her own. And now judging by his facial expression and the vein throbbing at the side of his head, it looked like here were in need of a laxative suppository.

Nikita's right hand gripped around one of the bannister bars, welded of iron. It was cold in her hand, the dull edges uncomfortable, the thin skin paling white over her knuckles.

"Why them? What personal connections did she have to th-"

"-My daughter was sick." Gerard's voice quiet and shaking with anger, his words sounding like a repetitive mantra he probably used to answer the authorities.

"Your daughter was a murderer! And the poetic justice of her demise couldn't be sweeter!" Just like that the iron bannister snapped in her firm grip and crashed into the marble floor with a loud 'twang.'

Nikita was trembling all over with anger, her eyes wide for she can't believe the words that had come out of her mouth. It's like she had blacked out for a moment, her vision tunneling while her mouth kept running, slinging out venom to land upon Gerard Argent; her Principal. If they were at school right now she would surely be facing expulsion. Expulsion didn't scare Nikita, she had faced much scarier and unexplainable things in a short amount of time. She hoped he'd expel her, and expel her out of this stupid town, so she could go back to her real home in Los Angeles.

Gerard was left gobsmacked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on deck, searching for some kind of retort, some way to de escalate things. Allison must have heard everything, for she came running down the stairs at bullet speed, linking arms with Nikita and wordlessly dragging her out of there.

"We should go!" Allison having to let go of her grip on Nikita even when they were on the driveway. "Don't let him upset you."

She appreciated Allison trying to calm her down, but Nikita was already riled up. She would have to calm herself and push out all negative thoughts if she wanted tonight to go perfectly.

* * *

-Stiles' POV-

With his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth, Stiles jiggled the key in the lock "Almost..."

Allison, Scott, Nikita and Lydia stood behind him waiting all let out a sigh as they heard a successful click.

Flood lights turned on one by one, revealing a magnificent and empty ice rink. It was completely untouched, pristine, and they would be the first to use it. Nikita couldn't help but to let out an excited squeal, for they had the entire place all to themselves.

He and Scott walked behind a counter to grab ice skates for Alison and Nikita. Lydia obviously had already brought hers along, finding rental skates to be disgusting.

"So what did it take for you to get the keys to this place?" Scott giving Stiles one of his crooked grins.

Stiles was looking along rows of skates for Nikita's size, trying to find ones that didn't have dull blades. "My goddamn soul and whatever was left of my pride and dignity." Stiles muttered under his breath, coming across the perfect skates. "Boyd was one tough bargain."

Finally, he found the perfect ice skates, and grabbed them by the laces. He sees Allison and Nikita sitting on a bench, taking selfies together, and laughing amongst each other, while Lydia was tightening her laces. Both Stiles and Scott take a moment to admire the girls they've come here with. It was silently agreed upon that they both enjoyed when the girls got along, their laughters intermingling. Stiles was already thinking of all the future double dates they were going to have.

He looks over to Scott who has a pleasant smile on his face while still watching Allison.. "Look, I know you think I should be putting space between Nikita and I. I can't do it, it's impossible Scott."

Scott let's out a sigh and looks to his best friend with something akin to sorrow, his deep dark eyes swirling with empathy and a warmth that only Scott McCall could possess. "You really like her, huh?"

Stiles simply nods. "More than anything."

"You're my best friend Stiles, and I would never do anything to hold you back from the things that make you happy. Dude, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll support you. Whether you decide to pursue your relationship with Nikita or not." Scott's hand coming to clap onto Stiles' shoulder.

They walk back to the girls, Scott and Allison go off to a separate bench to put on their skates. Stiles gets on his knees before a seated Nikita, helping her put on her skates. His hand holds her right ankle up. She smiles upon him, that dimple of hers that he love so much comes out to play.

"Are you excited?" Stiles inquiring, while gently sliding her foot into the skate, making sure the ankle straps didn't pinch at her skin.

Nikita shrugged, causing her soft grey sweater to slouch off her left shoulder. The simple act and the sight of her skin so simple and inexplicably alluring to Stiles.

"Are you kidding? I haven't skated since I was a kid!"

Yet he could see the excitement flickering behind those beautiful mossy eyes. "Oh c'mon, you're the most athletic girl I know."

"For someone so coordinated, i'm probably the most clumsy person I know."

" Have you seen me attempt to function on a day to day basis?" Stiles chortled.

"Have you seen me in heels? Same thing. Both death traps invented by men." Nikita knocking her skates together.

"Hey it means you can quickly glide away from me if you're not feeling this date." Stiles smiled at her, hoping their night would never come to that. Although there may be need to skate the hell away from Lydia -who had invited herself to the double date-.

She studies him for a moment, long lashes fanning over her lively eyes. "I have to say, you're doing a great job so far."

"I have to say, you're my favorite date so far." Stiles relishing in the coy way she looks at him.

Nikita lets out a snort. "Don't lie Stilinski, i'm the only date you've ever had."

"Touché." Stiles retorts, god damn did Nikita have a sharp tongue, just the way he liked her.

Stiles was careful to lace both skates up tightly. He could tell Nikita thought it was so adorable with how much thought and attention he paid to her safety. It was nice sometimes, to know you were being taken care of, and Stiles made sure she knew that. He believed in the little things rather than the big romantic gestures, those were the things that truly mattered.

Their attention garnered by Allison on the ice, beckoning Scott to join her.

The both of them had let out a loud "ooooooooh" when Scott stepped onto the ice only to fall on his back. Across from that was Lydia, landing triple axels like she were a Winter Olympics Gold Medalist.

Stiles looks to a nervous Nikita. "Alright, it's our turn to get out there!"

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

Once it came time to actually use the skates, Nikita felt her confidence falter. Stiles took the ice first. She watched him with a sweet smile on her face as he effortlessly glided across the sea of white. Stiles was enjoying the attention she was giving him, making him feel important and special. He was absolutely beaming. Nikita had laughed at Scott earlier when he fell to his butt, but now she was nervous of the same thing happening to her in front of Stiles. She wanted so badly to impress Stiles, to look good in front of him.

"Come on!" Stiles called to her from the centre of the rink. He glided a little closer, taking his hands out of his pockets to hold out for Nikita, wanting her to take it. "I know you can do it!"

How could Nikita say no to him? Nikita did as he asked and slid out to join him. And immediately regretted it. Nikita felt her ankles wobble as her skates slid on the ice, throwing her balance off. But Stiles, steadfast and surprisingly athletic, shot forward to catch her. Nikita felt his warm arms come around her, frightened, and out of instinct, her nails came to sharply dig into his arm, protected by the sleeve of his red hoodie. She was a frightened cat, all claws and panic.

Nikita glanced up at Stiles with her doe eyes, his arms around her, keeping her upright, good to his promise. She was wearing the same grin as Stiles.

"You have to relax. I won't let you go. I promise."

Nikita nodded, her breath catching in her throat. Her legs wobbled like that of a newborn fawn who had only just learned to stand. Nikita forced herself to relax. One by one she uncoiled the tense muscles in her body, her back, her shoulder, her jaw, her calves, even uncurling her toes.

She was okay with Stiles. Stiles wouldn't let her fall.

"You're doing fine!" Stiles as encouraging as ever, speaking into her hair, still holding onto her.

"I'm going to need you to trust me, ok?" He added.

Trust.

He was asking for trust. It seemed so simple. She did trust him and yet she felt prickles of fear prodding at her heart, and raising the hairs on the back of her neck. It was hard for her to eradicate fears of being lied to and placing trust in others with all the secrets floating around lately. But that was her damn Principal,Scott and Derek. She couldn't trust was Stiles. She liked him. She liked Stiles so much.

Nikita had promised to allow herself to just indulge and enjoy this night. There was no room for fears and mistrust, not here, not tonight. So she nodded her head and let Stiles take her hand.

"Good," he said. "Now, close your eyes."

And she did. Her eyelids coming to meet together.

The warmth of Stiles' fingers spread through her gloves, Nikita loving how this simply felt electric. She could hear nothing but the sound of her friends laughing, the soft glide of skates on ice and the occasional thump as Scott fell here and there. Nikita let out a surprised gasp as an icy chill blew past her. Her knees still felt weak, her legs unsteady, but with Stiles' holding her she could still keep her eyes shut without wanting to open them. She was trusting him, putting herself literally in his hands. Stiles gently squeezed her fingers, only the slightest to let her know that he was still there.

Fingers of crisp air gently raked through her warm coffee colored hair and nipped at the top of her rosy cheeks. Her worried expression soon dissolving into a giddy smile.

"Alright, open your eyes." Stiles finally granting her permission.

Nikita opened her eyes and gasped with such delight as she found herself gliding smoothly on the slick ice, Stiles' hand the only thing guiding her across the rink. Nikita threw her head back with a childlike giggle. Lately she had been in drought of happiness, drifting through life aimlessly and hopelessly. And now she was feeling a bout of laughter bubbling from within her, thanks to Stiles.

"I'm doing it! Stiles, look. I'm really skating!" Nikita's cheeks starting to hurt from the cold and her large grin.

And she was ice skating! Stiles' was only directing her, pulling her along the ice as he skated backwards. His hand gave her the confidence she needed. Her infectious laughter rang out as Scott and Allison watched from the other side, cheering for their friend. They hadn't seen Nikita this carefree in so long and it was impossible not to join in.

Although there were three others on the ice rink, Nikita felt like it was just the two of them, just her and Stiles while the rest of the world was shut away. She looked into Stiles' warm brown eyes, losing herself within them. How she longed to pull him to her and bury her face in his neck. Breathe him in and, just for a few seconds, let herself be. Just be a girl in the arms of a boy she cared for.

She could see herself, her own image reflected back at her in Stiles' eyes, catching a glimpse of her very own smile. A smile of genuine true happiness, an image she hoped she would never forget. For she was feeling brighter than the sun, filled with warmth from head to toe. For a moment all the world's problems had dissolved, the weight of pressure rolling off her moment, everything about it felt so perfect.

Nikita looked at the boy in front of her, and wondered if he felt the same. She hoped he did. Was this euphoria what other people would call love?

Stiles' smile faltered just the slightest, bringing Nikita back to reality and out of her love lust haze. She realized that she had been staring, peering deeply into his eyes as if she were searching for the vastness of his soul. And now Nikita was feeling terribly embarrassed for staring so foolishly. She was surprised to find that they were both still moving, gliding slowly across the ice. Except this time he wasn't holding her hands, in fact Nikita wasn't holding onto anything now.

"Oh my god! Stiles!" Nikita exclaimed, her mouth dropping wide. Stiles had essentially taken off her training wheels. She was skating all by herself.

"You see?" Stiles sounding so smug and proud at the same time. "I told you, you could do it!"

Nikita excitedly looked around to see if the others were watching her, Allison and Scott were cuddled on the bleachers, holding each other close. Lydia, was on the other end of the bleachers, never looking up from her cell phone.

Stiles was skating circles around her gleefully. "Alright, Nikita. Now that you have the basics down. How about a little game?" His little smirk exciting Nikita like no other.

"What do you have in mind, Stilinski?" Her words were choppy for she was still watching her feet, already getting a hang of it.

"You're the fastest person in school, perhaps the county."

"Mmmhmm." Nikita shamelessly agreeing, she was damn good. "I'm glad you recognize my talents. What is this game you speak of? Please enlighten me."

Stiles came to a stop behind her and playfully rested his chin on her shoulder "Simple, you catch me. And you get to kiss these lips." And with that he skated off, leaving Nikita flabbergasted.

His newfound confidence came as a shock to her, but that's what they did to one another, inspired confidence within and challenge each other at every turn, that's what had kept her so enticed. With a jolt of adrenaline pulsing through her, Nikita set off across the ice, sloppy, but fast; zeroing in on Stiles.

Stiles wanted her.

He wanted to taste her lips but the universe must have had a different idea for how this was going to end. Nikita skidded, suddenly thrown off balance as her skates caught in an imperfection upon the ice. She instinctively moved to catch herself, her hands fisted in Stiles' sweater. They had both spun around so suddenly, next thing Nikita knew, her back and head rammed into the plexiglass walls, Stiles colliding into her.

Stiles couldn't help but to laugh rambunctiously, finding humor in the situation. He was nearly pressed up against her.

Nikita however was less impressed. The back of her head, protected by a thin layer of her black beanie, hit the rink wall. She winced a little and Stiles immediately noticed, he was now concerned. His hand came to rub the back of her head, careful not to press too hard in case he hurt her more. He was so careful with her that Nikita forgot to feel concerned as his fingers passed over where her stitches were. Stitches that she was so terribly embarrassed of.

"Your poor head, it's been through so much!" He said with a subtle smile and a hint of amusement.

Nikita let her head fall back, resting it on the wall behind her and laughed, her smile so wide that her eyes were squinted upon her high cheekbones. "Yeah. It seems to be a common occurrence with me."

"Think we should get you a special helmet, shouldn't we?" Stiles jokingly knocking the side of her head with his knuckles. He placed his hands on her hips, a very daring move. He did it to keep her balanced and safe, but the moment Stiles realized where his hands were he couldn't help but to blush.

Nikita seized the opportunity at once. She curled her finger around his belt loop, pulling him closer to her on his skates. Their faces were now mere inches apart.

Nikita said, "I think I deserve my prize. I did win, didn't I?"

Stiles' brains was going haywire with how close in proximity he was to her. This close to her he could feel the body heat fanning off of her, he could pick up the gorgeous scent of her perfume, it filled his head. The feel of her hands, her body pressing eagerly into his. The sight of her soulful eyes, looking both innocent and seductive. Nikita didn't even know what she did to him, not really, her seduction was accidental, which made her so much more alluring. Those large eyes were the color of spanish moss, and sometimes darker than wet earth. At once brown and green, ever changing and multichromatic.

Her eyes were so complex, stunning, and honest, much like the rest of Nikita. She was looking at him like he were the only person on earth, the only person who mattered to her. It made him feel so important, made him feel so strong. The most intense feeling of protection came over Stiles, he wanted to protect her so badly from the cruelties of the world. Take her somewhere safe, take her away from this town, take her somewhere where it would just be the two of them.

Stiles neared her, their lips coming even closer, she looked to him with such want and anticipation. The last and only time he had kissed her was the night of Winter Formal.

"I've been wanting to do this," he said "for such a long time."

Her breath hitched in her throat as Stiles dared to close the gap between them, his lips just barely brushing over hers. She had been looking forward to this moment for so long, so so long.

And then...it was cold.

A wave of wet shredded ice hit the two of them, prompting them to scream out in surprise. They both turned to the side to see Lydia standing there with her arms crossed, looking far from impressed by the pair of them. She had very deliberately sped towards the pair while they were distracted, proceeding to slide to a sideways stop thus showering both Nikita and Stiles with a spray of snowy ice shavings kicked up by her skates.

"I'm cold," she declared, staring at Stiles with a small pout. Ignoring Nikita entirely. "Mind getting me a sweater?"

* * *

"Why, Lydia? Why." Nikita exhaled as she linked arms with her redheaded friend. They were alone on the ice now, Scott and Allison in a photobooth. Stiles was off somewhere in the bleachers fishing reluctantly for a sweater in his backpack.

Lydia didn't seem to mind interrupting Nikita and Stiles' moment."Because, as your best friend, I think you can do better."

Nikita rolled her eyes. "You're dating Jackson, if you could even call it that. You don't get much of an opinion, Lydia."

"And you dated him as well. Let's admit it, we don't know how to pick good ones." Her friend pulled her arm away from Nikita to fold it over his chest.

Her response, leaving Nikita slackjaw "Believe it or not, I like him...A lot. And he's nothing like the rest, okay? Stiles is good."

The two stopped in the middle of the ice rink, for half a heartbeat there was nothing but silence as they stood side by side.

Lydia wrung her fingers, her anxious behavior rubbing off on Nikita. "Niki, I let you down as a friend."

Nikita blew out a puff of air, her chestnut curl rising and falling. "I don't want to talk about this again, Lydia. Alright? We patched our bridge and now we're over it."

"I just want to look after you!" Lydia pleaded " make sure you don't fall to the bottom of the Social Pyramid!"

Nikita could care less for a social pyramid, She'd already suffered a greater fall, and there were far more concerning matters in her life at the moment.. The conversation so absurd, Nikita couldn't help but to burst out in losing balance, and falling onto the ice with a thud. This only caused her to laugh harder.

Lydia however, was not laughing. In fact she was caught in a daze, so deeply gone she couldn't hear even hear Nikita calling her name. Her bright eyes transfixed to the floor like she was brainwashed. Nikita's eyes remained focused on her friend who was now skating away from her

"Lydia?" Nikita's soft voice calling out to her

The expression she wore, devoid of any emotion, like an invisible force beckoning her.

Nikita was seated on her knees, gloved hands flat on the ice. It was a mistake on her part to look down when she did so. A slow flickering from beneath the matte thick ice catching her eye. Nikita rubbed her eyes and stared at the ice, waiting to see if it would happen again.

Nothing happened.

Perhaps it was just a trick of the eye, a moving shadow. But again, there was a flicker. Her eyes narrowed on the ice, studying it. To her disbelief there was a shadowy figure trapped beneath her. Nikita leaned down to look closer, her warm breath just barely clearing the matte surface of the ice.

Her always curious nature took over, she needed to know what was beneath.

Gloved hands wiped away at the surface furiously. But the frost remained, veiling whatever was underneath the ice. With her teeth she peeled off her gloves, and used the warmth of her hands to wipe away the frost. Her fingers aching and dull from the cold ice, even stinging, but she kept going.

Even when Lydia's scream pierced the air, she kept going, completely unaware. She wanted this, she needed this, she needed to know. It was like a scab, and she couldn't stop picking at it, much like the sutures at the back of her head. Nothing could stop Nikita.

Nothing, except for what she saw once the frost cleared.

Trapped underneath the ice was a girl with wavy brown hair. She wore a beautiful powder pink dress, a silver heart necklace around her neck, and a corsage tied to her wrist.

Nikita's eyes widened as the dress slowly became drenched in blood. The necklace she wore,it was the exact same as Nikita's A scream ripped out from Nikita's throat, so loud it left her throat raw.

She saw herself beneath the ice.

"NO!" Nikita's shrill scream bounced off the walls.

Her nails dug into the ice, scratching at the surface, in a pathetic attempt to dig the girl out from the ice. The bitter cold, biting at her fingertips. She didn't even notice Stiles grabbing her, trying to pull her away. The girl underneath was convulsing, writhing, coughing up copious amounts of blood. The taste of acidic bile loomed in the back of Nikita's throat, the sight so gruesome it left a tight knot in the pit of her stomach. Nikita was aggressively trying to claw away at the ice, like a rabid animal. The dull pain and tear under her nails didn't stop her, as a few of her nails loosened.

Nikita's own crimson blood, sullying the pristine ice.

She was screaming incoherent words, sobbing and sputtering out a sea of 'no's'. Stiles was shouting her name, finding any possible attempt to get through to her. Allison was tending to Lydia who still had not stopped screaming in hysterics. Both girls having snapped at the same time.

The blood shot eyes underneath opened, staring straight into Nikita's soul,it was like looking in the mirror.

The screaming stopped as Nikita looked at herself below the ice. A sudden sharp silence daggering through Nikita, her ears ringing sharply. A harrowing pain pulsated in the back of her head that had left her quivering like a leaf. Any strength left in her body gave out, as her body collapsed into Stiles. He caught her, refusing to let her slump onto the ground. Her eyes squeezed shut. And then she saw it.

Random sequences of images played in her head. Her running barefoot in the rain, bushes of brambles tearing at her pink winter formal dress. The animal like creature that had cornered her so terrible it must have been from her darkest nightmares. The beast trying to tear her open with its razor like claws.

Nikita ripped off her beanie, her fingers going to the back of her head to feel the stitches. Except they weren't there, they had dissolved. The puckered skin was no more, it had smoothened out, not even a scar leaving a mark. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat. Realization was a bundle of bricks dragging her to the deepest depths of the ocean. She was sinking, further and further into her mind.

The night of her accident wasn't an accident.

It was an attack.

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Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Your reviews mean the world to me.


	26. Chapter 26

Hey guys i'm so super excited about this chapter! Major shout out to those of you who left me reviews last chapter, I love you guys so much and it means the world to me that you care enough to let me know what you think. You have all been so kind and supportive, and pushing me to try my best. You lovely reviewers always give me the motivation to keep on going, you're all so incredible! Shoutout to those who are binging through this story rn, you're such champs. I know binging a story can be arduous and a bit difficult. This is another short one, but I think it's a good one ;]

Thank you thank you thank you!

* * *

 _The stars twinkled softly above her in the jet pitch sky. Twinkling as she laid there, suffering, bleeding, paralyzed, and broken. Waves of relentless pain tore through Nikita's body, she could only cry out in hopes of someone hearing her. It was her choice to jump off the edge of Suicide Hill, Nikita having taken her chances with the fall rather than being torn apart by that monster. And now blood was traveling up her esophagus, cutting off her air supply. Nikita gasped for air one last time as her mouth bubbled with blood. It spluttered and rolled out the side of her mouth, Nikita straining to breath, but it was impossible. The hurt, the pain would never cease, her lungs burning and straining for oxygen as they began to collapse. Death would soon cradle Nikita in it's cold and weary arms, waiting for her to close her eyes. And soon her eyelids grew heavy, Nikita let it come for her, her eyes rolling to the back of her head before shutting close._

 _She felt it._

 _The warm and gentle, unmistakable, touch of fingertips grabbing her chin. The hand pushed her head to the side, the blood rushed right out of her mouth, allowing her to breathe again before the blackness came._

"Stiles! Stiles! She's not doing anything!" Allison shouted from the backseat of Stiles' car. She sat sandwiched between Lydia and Nikita trying her best to comfort both girls at the same time.

An Arduous task as Lydia was hysterically crying in her chest, muttering nonsense between endless sobs. Her perfectly applied mascara ran down her flushed cheeks, to soak into Allison's sweater; Lydia was truly a frightened mess. The red head dug her fingers in Allison's shoulders, reliving the haunting and disturbing image of Peter Hale trapped beneath the ice.

However hysterical Lydia was, it was Nikita who truly frightened Allison.

Nikita's wide eyes were glazed over in horror, transfixed on the back of the passenger seat. Eyes staring into nothingness, boring into space without a single blink. Her body sat stiff in the seat; on edge. The unspeakable things she had seen only moments ago played over and over in her head, a deranged cerebral movie of sorts. The memory of that night...All of the thoughts had left her numb, numb to any sort of pain or feeling. Something within her had chipped away, leaving her in a void that refused to let her emote.

She was in a catatonic state as she sat there like a zombie.

Scott turned around from the passenger seat and waved his hands in front of Nikita, attempting to get some sort of reaction from her; anything. Her eyes, empty, yet piercing, it caused Scott to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Was she looking at him? or was she looking through him?

His hand comes to rest on hers, she didn't even pull away like he had expected her to. Scott wanted to take the pain away from her, but she was in no sort of physical pain; how he wished he could ease her emotional turmoil. This was starting to scare him.

"C'mon, Niki. Please say something." Scott pleading, feeling as though this was his fault.

"I'm gonna get you home Nik, you'll be alright." Stiles muttered under his breath as he raced down the street, ignoring every stop light along the way.

It was only moments ago they were holding hands and laughing, everything seemed to be going perfectly. How did the night turn around so dramatically? He remembered pulling her away from the ice, there was nothing under or on the ice. Just a mess of crimson blood from Nikita's fingers. Her unbelievable strength made it almost impossible for Stiles to pull her away. Whatever she had seen had shaken her, rattled her , and left her unresponsive to the world.

The smell of rubber wafted into the air as he came to a screeching halt in front of Lydia's house.

Allison stepped out of the car with Lydia and leaned against the passenger car door "I'm going to spend the night here." She looked to Nikita, her brown eyes full of sorrow and worry. "Stiles, call me if anything happens."

Scott stroked the side of Allison's face lovingly, appreciating her where she stood. They exchanged a longing glance, neither wanting to part.

"Be careful." Scott told Allison as she walked off.

In all of his years of being best friends with Scott, he had never envied him; until now. Scott's relationship with Allison was almost effortless, even with hurdles of obstacles, they managed to be together. But it felt like some greater force out there constantly kept a barrier between him and Nikita, never allowing them to have one loving moment to themselves. All he wanted was to hold her, to kiss her lips, to look deep into her beautiful eyes and drown in them. But even that seemed impossible.

They were off again, Stiles going over seventy along the winding roads. All concerns of speed limits out the window, he just wanted to get her home where she would feel safe.

Scott turned to see Nikita had fallen asleep, laying on her side with her knees pulled up to her chest. Clearly Nikita was spent, exhausted both physically and emotionally.

"We can't tell her, Stiles." Scott singing a different tune from hours earlier, when he had left the option to Stiles. " She can't know about me, or Derek...Or anyone." The Beta kept his voice low, just in case.

"I know." Stiles said without hesitation, hating how his voice croaked. He knew very well that telling Nikita about Werewolves could potentially put her in harm's way.

Just like his own life and Allison's life had been put in jeopardy before time and time again. To be immersed in the world of the supernatural meant that one had to have a tough back bone, for they would bear the weight of all the pressure and stresses that came with it. To put it roughly, Nikita didn't have the mental stamina for Stiles being in the know, he even put his own father in danger multiple times. Nikita still had a chance, she had a chance of living a relatively normal life.

Scott looked to his friend, pain danced behind Stiles' brown eyes, the look on Stiles' face tearing at Scott's very own heart. "Stiles, you're like my brother; and I would give anything to see you happy."

Somehow those words hurt more than anything. He knew Scott was genuine, but they had both arrived to the same conclusion, Stiles couldn't ever obtain happiness, because he would never be with Nikita.

" I'm sorry you've had to sacrifice so much, I'm sorry, I really am." Scott adding, before falling into solemn silence.

Stiles found it hard to speak with the lump forming in the back of his throat "...I...I know." He finally managed to say.

Scott always had the best intentions and was always looking out for everyone, none of this was his fault. He would go to the world's end for his best friend, his brother, and Scott would do just the same. They would always have each other's backs.

They finally pulled up to Nikita's large house, tires squealing harshly as Stiles pulled up his jeep along the curb, right outside Nikita's door. Scott leaped out the passenger side door, Stiles stumbling out the driver's side, lacking grace and any sort of coordination. In the time it took him to sprint around the side of the Jeep, Scott was already starting to pull a sleeping Nikita from the back seat, but Stiles stopped him by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I got this." Stiles gingerly taking Nikita into his arms, as if this were the most fragile and important task in the world. He wanted so badly to keep her safe.

He was careful to hold her close, afraid of dropping her. Scott hovered just beside them, in case his friend needed help.

Once they got to the front steps of the home the door swung open. Out stepped Melissa McCall and Walter Grace. Nikita's father. They were both dressed in their work attire, clearly in a rush. The moment their eyes landed on the trio they froze, confused, which dissolved into concern upon realizing who the girl in Stiles' arms was.

"Scott! What happened?" Melissa hurried to her son, checking that he was unharmed. Walter walking right up to Stiles, to look at his daughter. Stiles winced back when Walter approached them, unsure of the reaction he would get. His hand came to carefully push a strand of hair out of his daughter's face. Nikita was pale as a sheet of paper. Beads of sweat dotted across her forehead, she almost looked ill, but mostly she looked fragile.

"What happened to her!?" Walter's tone of voice more concerned than accusatory.

Stiles swallowed thickly, his mind whirring for an answer. 'Say something! Say what? Don't care, just say something!' His thoughts screaming at him.

Both Walter and Melissa's pagers went off, they were needed at the hospital. But Walter looked cemented where he stood, his hand cupping the side of Nikita's face, the heartbreak evident behind his mossy eyes. He didn't want to leave his baby girl, his body refusing to let him move.

For he belonged here, with Nikita.

"It's uh . . ." Both adults were staring at Stiles now. Suspicion finally darkening across Walter's features.

"Food poisoning!" Scott blurted out, saving Stiles last second. Scott piped out again, forcing himself to look wide-eyed and clueless. "There was vomit….everywhere! Lot and lots and lots –"

Melissa laughed. "Okay, sweetie. We get it." Her pager went off again, sounding even more aggressive than last time."Walt, honey, we need to go, your patients need you."

"My daughter needs me." Walter lamenting, his hand now cupping the side of Nikita's face, it was evident he didn't want to leave her side.

"Aww." Melissa coming to hug Walter from behind, she planted a kiss on the side of his shoulder. "It's just food poisoning, baby. She'll be ok. Right now, there's a ten year old girl who is in dire need of open heart surgery."

"I can uhm. I can stay behind and make sure she's okay." Stiles offering, feeling himself shrink beneath Walter's cold gaze. This man knew how to make people feel small with just a stare.

Melissa and Walter exchanged a glance, she shook her head.

"Alright, fine." Walter caving, he couldn't bare the thought of leaving his girl alone in times of distress. "You can sleep in the pool house. You can sleep in whichever guest room you want. You can sleep on any of the couches, sleep in the tub, my bedroom. I don't care. Just not in her room."

Stiles swallowed thickly, Walter was a tall and intimidating man when he wanted to. "Y-yes sir."

Walter's stern icey expression melted away as his eyes landed on Scott, instead it was replaced with a warm smile. "Scott, would you like a ride?" He even patted the Beta's shoulder.

"Thanks Walt, that would actually be nice."

Stiles rolled his eyes and watched them drive away. He stepped inside the Grace home and walked upstairs, to Nikita's room. Gently he laid her down. Still asleep she rolled to her side. He took off her shoes with care, making sure she didn't wake up.

Stiles sat on the edge of her bed, ruffling his hair with frustration. Everything was a mess, Lydia, Nikita and Jackson were losing their minds, there was a killer lizard on the prowl, Derek was turning teenagers into werewolves, and Allison's Grandfather was their principle of their school. The pressure was weighing down on him, there were so many problems to solve, so much to do.

He turned around and looked at the large bed, it looked so warm and inviting. Maybe he could just get an hour of shut eye, just a nap. Stiles laid next to Nikita, they were almost nose to nose. His fingers ran through her dark chestnut long hair.

"I promise someday things will get better. I wish we could skip out of town, just to get a break from it all." With that he planted a kiss on her forehead.

* * *

Stiles rolled over, the soft sheets of her bed tangling between his legs. The scent of fresh cut white jasmine wafted all around him, Nikita's scent. The lush, sweet smell that was also soft and elegant.

With his eyes closed he breathed her in, delighting in her gorgeous perfume. He could feel the warmth of morning light brushing against his cheek, cozy in her cloud like comforters. Stiles knew he had fallen asleep right next to Nikita. He needed rest more than anything, for he now felt refreshed and more awake than he had in weeks. Still, something was off. Not as it had been the night before.

It wasn't until that exact moment when that he noticed the slight indent in the mattress next to him. Stiles turned around to look... Nikita had been there. She had slept beside him and now she was gone.

Startled and alert, Stiles jumped out of bed and called her name.

"Nik?"

No answer.

His heart thudded strongly in his chest. She wouldn't have just left, would she? Where could she have gone?

Stiles' head whipped side to side, taking in her room. It was her desk that caught his attention. He walked up to it to see it was littered with torn out pages and pages, drawings of red Alpha eyes. Peter Hale's eyes viciously staring right back at him.

"Crap." Stiles muttered out.

He rushed to the window, checking to see if it was opened, but no. The window was shut tight, the latch still locked. Absolutely gobsmacked and terrified, Stiles barreled down the upstairs hall stopping to check in each room. Nothing. He paused to consider searching the downstairs for her when a slight sound from the guest bathroom caught his attention. Slowly, he padded, socks on wooden floors, and slowly cracked the bathroom door open . . . and let out the longest sigh of relief.

There she was.

Nikita had curled herself inside the empty bathtub. Her long dark hair draped over her shoulders and face as if to hide herself from the world and all it's cruelties. She had pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around herself. His clever, sassy, beautiful, Nikita Grace looked like a beaten puppy.

The sight of her was heartbreaking.

Taking careful measures not to startle her Stiles lowered himself at the edge of the tub and placed his hand on Nikita's trembling shoulder. His name came out from her quivering lips, if he wasn't so close to her he wouldn't have heard it.

When her head lifted, her arms shot towards him to wrap around his neck. Stiles would have lost balance, but his hand firmly wrapped around the edge of the tub just in time to keep them both from toppling over.

She was terrified, he could feel it in her trembling body.

"Shhhh," he crooned, rubbing Nikita's back. comforting strokes he hoped would soothe her, at the very least calm her racing heart.

"You're okay. You're going to be okay."

Nikita pulled slowly away, her arms unlocking from their strong hold around Stiles' neck. The whites of her eyes showed all around. She sat mere inches from him, staring into his face as if making sure he was who he appeared to be. Her frightened eyes narrowed on him, showing some recognition.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Nikita's fingers came to press against Stiles' chin, pushing his face to the side. "You were the one who helped me. Weren't you?"

She sounded so certain, and Stiles had no clue what she was talking about. It was already beginning to worry him. She looked disappointed in his ignorance, wanting him to be the one who helped her breathe again.

"I remembered." Nikita whispered. Her voice shook. "I-I remember what happened to me, Stiles."

He didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to react, this was all so obscure to him.

"Remembered what?" he prodded. His hand rubbing at her shoulder.

Nikita seemed as blindsided by the question as he felt. The light in her eyes dimmed and she turned her gaze away from him, finding it easier to focus on a tiny crack in the floor tiles in the corner of the room. A tiny hairline crack, a sliver of nearly nothing. Her eyes tracing the serpentine like pattern.

A knot of fear and dread pulled at Stiles' stomach, could she have possibly remembered the night of Winter Formal?

Not. Possible.

Stiles tried to mask his sudden panic under false confusion. He needed to distract her, end her thoughts before she figured everything out.

"Nik, come on. Get out of there. You can't just sit in a tub."

"I wasn't drunk!" Nikita blurted out. "Stiles I swear I wasn't drunk the night of the dance!"

Stiles held up his hands in surrender. "I didn't say you were."

Nikita took Stiles' face in her hands. Her touch soft. Her skin warm. Her fingers trembled like no other. She stared straight into Stiles' eyes, her gaze dark, something turbulent, frightened and unstable stirring inside her

"The night of the dance. I saw red eyes. I saw a beast."

Stiles froze, nearly dropping his mask of calm and ignorance, Nikita caught it.

And she went on, "I saw . . . red savage eyes. I saw a werewolf, Stiles. I think I saw a werewolf."

Those were the words he was so afraid to hear, tumbling out of her own mouth.

Werewolf.

Pure panic seeped out of his very pores. Beads of sweat on his forehead and down the length of his back. Stiles didn't want this for her. Nobody wanted Nikita dragged into this world. She had to stay safe, she had to stay far. How could she possibly have figured it out? Never had Stiles been in this sort of position before and it threw him. He didn't know what to do. How could he lie, now, when it was so clear that she was sure?

Confused, hurting, lost so deeply in her enchanting eyes Stiles couldn't pull together a coherent thought. He defaulted to humor, it was programmed in him to make light of all situations.

"Okay, Nikita... No more True Blood marathons for you. I think you've had enough."

He had to downplay her imagination, make her believe what she saw wasn't real. He had to protect her, he had to protect Scott too. Scott deserved protection too!

Her mouth hung open, stung by the words muttered from Stiles. A dull ache traveled from the pit of her stomach to clench around her heart.

Stiles didn't believe her.

And now he was looking at her with something akin to pity.

Tears welled up in her eyes, she was so desperate for someone to stand in her corner. "Please believe me, Stiles please, PLEASE."

Stiles had to think of something to debunk her claim."There haven't been wolves in California in over sixty years, Niki."

"I didn't say wolf! I said werewolf." Nikita sternly correcting him.

He sighed again. Hating that he had to do this to her. "You're telling me the Wolfman chased you off the edge of a cliff? It didn't bite you or scratch you? It shoved you and It just left you there? And then what? You just up and vanished for five days? Hmm?"

"It didn't shove me, I jumped!"

Stiles' brows danced up to his hairline. "I'm sorry, what? You jumped?"

Nikita's fingers clenched tightly to the roots of her hair, like she were trying to pull the image engrained out of her mind and share it with Stiles. Make him see what she saw, then he would certainly believe her.

"I know it sounds crazy! I know!" She winced at the word crazy, fearing that was exactly what she was. Her hands came to cup around his face, thumb brushing the top of his cheeks. "But I need you to believe me Stiles. I hardly believe myself. I need you Stiles."

A tear rolled over her cheeks, and down her chin. "I have no one else, Stiles, please believe me."

Stiles didn't know what to say. He looked to her disheveled self, Nikita lying beneath rock bottom. Things were already bad for Nikita, but they would grow tenfold if she knew the truth.

"I know people have been cruel to you. Nikita. I know they torment you with those Eichen House brochures."

Nikita flinched, humiliated that Stiles knew about the torment she endured so often at school. She thought Jonesy was the only other person who knew about those.

"That's why you can't tell anybody about this, Nikita. No more speak of werewolves, it will make you look crazy."

"I'm not crazy." She whispered without hesitation or feeling the sharp lash of his words. Her trembling hands still cupping his face.

"Really Nikita? Werewolves in Beacon Hills? I can't stand the idea of people ridiculing you."

She let out a sniffle. "Like you are doing with me?"

This isn't fair, Stiles thought in anguish. None of this is fair. She shouldn't have to suffer like this.

He wanted nothing more than to make this all better, take all the pain and misery away from Nikita. Stiles already knew what he had to do. He just hadn't had the courage to do it until now .

He cared so much for Nikita, god how his heart was swelling with a melancholic ache. Stiles had to sever Nikita's ties from the supernatural world. Much like Derek had done. Much like how Scott had done. Much how like Allison was slowly drifting from her and Lydia. Stiles was the last thread left.

He would have to hurt her in a way she could never forgive him for. Hurt her so that she couldn't even stand to be near him. Stiles was so afraid of letting Nikita go, he was so selfish in that he wanted to bask in such a beautiful girls love, attention, and affection. But now, seeing her like this so terrified and vulnerable in a tub trying to hide from memories she shouldn't even have…

"Goodbye, Nikita." Stiles thought to himself.

He gently peeled her hands off her face, letting them fall to the edge of the tub.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore," he said so nonchalantly, like it didn't matter. Like she didn't matter. Today was fun but now it was over. The words tasted so bitter and disgusting like licking an ashtray, he wanted to wash his mouth out so terribly.

Nikita's big Bambi eyes filled with tears, and she pulled her knees to her chest again. Her face scrunched and she began to cry. Damnit. Why couldn't she be stronger? Why did every little damn thing cause Nikita to cry? Seeing Nikita cry was the hardest thing to behold and witness, it was like a million jagged pieces of glass shooting straight into his heart. When she cried, he wanted to cry with her. He wanted to hold her. Apologize many times over. Hurt the person who was hurting her.

Stiles too was hurting.

Nikita looked to him like ice had frozen in her veins. She shook her head definitely, not believing him. She could see through him, she could see him pushing her away like so many others have had. But Stiles was different than the others. What he felt for her was real, and she had felt it too. He couldn't pretend like those feelings never existed. "No." Nikita sniffled out.

He needed to drive the point home, put the nail in the coffin."You need help,"You need to get better and I don't have the time to hold your hand and babysit you. Drop these silly ideas! You got drunk. You fell. You spent five days wandering around the woods in some kind of mindless haze. End of story!"

She needed to hate him, as much as he hated himself right now.

"Get out." Nikita hissed venomously. Eyes blazing. A furious fire burning within her.

"Nikita." he breathed out, feeling so weak for he was regretting this instantaneously. But he had loosed a barbed arrow into her heart, and there was no taking any of it back.

"Get out! GET THE FUCK OUT!" Nikita screamed, getting in his face so that this time he did stumble back, landing on his rear. Tears streamed down her face. Her pain overwhelming and uncontrollable to the point she couldn't contain it anymore, it overflowed tremendously like bath water.

Stiles got up to his feet. There was nothing else left to say, nothing to add onto the hurt she was already feeling. He had lost Nikita, and he had lost her on purpose, in the most heart wrenching way. He backed up towards the bathroom door. Nikita buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with her sobbing. He couldn't apologize to her, no matter how utterly sorry he felt.

"Please go." She managed to choke out from inside her hands.

Stiles left.

It was the longest, hardest walk of his life but he did it. Down the marble staircase, to the bottom where he stopped. Stiles had to grip the banister just to keep from running back up the stairs.

Nikita's cry, her heartbroken wail followed him all the way down.

Stiles had to reassure himself, this was for the best, no matter how horribly wrong it felt. Nikita was now one less thing to worry about. At least this way, she would be safe.

He left Nikita's home, got in his jeep and drove away.

* * *

Thank you for reading this chapter. Please please if you read it, leave a review. Your opinions, thoughts, and theories mean the world to me! (for those of you who have read the previous version of this, careful not to leave spoilers in your review!)

Can't wait for next chapter, it's only going to get more painful from there! :D


	27. Chapter 27

Omg you guys are so amazing! Thank you to all my lovely readers who take the time to leave me reviews. You guys are seriously the best, and give me so much motivation!

Thank you to: Beccasco, The weretype, Survivor girl, Feralllahey, Januarylily, Wildrecklessyouth, Maddierose, Peachy48, it belongs in a museum, princessdarkness12. Thank you to those of you who pm me on tumblr to let me know you read the chapters! I hope you guys grow comfortable enough to leave reviews here!

Shoutout to Bri and Galanerd for helping with the spanish parts! This was so much fun. Thank you Feralpoo for skimming through this chapter and helping me fix some knots!

The italics are dreams/flashbacks

Hope you guys are ready for this chapter! ;]

* * *

 _As Nikita laid on her back, there at the base of Suicide Hill, she thought of Derek and Walter. They had told her to stay out of the woods, and now her own foolishness would lead her to her demise. Blood bubbled in the back of her throat cutting off her air flow._

 _Heavy were her eyelids, they slowly came to meet. Nikita yielding to death._

 _She felt it then, the warm hand that came to hold her chin. It pushed her face to the side, allowing the blood to flow freely from her mouth; and she could breathe again._

 _When her eyes opened again, she was inside. Her nails scored over the rough fabric beneath her. It was lace, Nikita was certain it was lace sliding across a hardened surface. Still she continued to scratch at the surface. A weak attempt at escape, while most of her body was immobile._

 _Paralyzed._

 _How . . . how did she come to be here? Nikita's mind was filled with only fog and confusion. She had to fight the hurdles in her mind, fight to find coherence and navigate herself out of this mist. But fighting for coherence was difficult with the searing sensation of pain raking the top half of her body._

 _The light from above was blinding. A harsh, white gleam that gave her a head splitting headache, piercing straight through to the back of her skull. Perhaps it was because her head was actually split; cracked open like an egg. She wanted to cry, but there were no tears. Only blood. Blood and the sweat beading across the cold porcelain like skin of her forehead._

" _We need to do something! Now!" An unfamiliar voice crying out in plea._

" _There's nothing that can be done. Let nature take its course." A gruff voice she had become familiar with. Her Angel._

 _There was bickering now, the two voices going back and forth, shouting. She couldn't pick up on the conversation, her eyes threatening to shut and never open again._

 _She was aware of a shadowy figure hovered over her now, brushing strands of damp hair off her face with strong warn fingers. There he was with his beautiful halo. Nikita strained to see him, to see his face and know him but black spots began to dance in her vision._

 _Apprehension gutted her, perhaps it was best to remain ignorant, never knowing the face of her Angel._

" _Are you scared, Nikita Grace?"_

 _She could only shake her head. There was nothing to fear anymore. Nikita had made peace with the fact that she was dying. This was the end for her. There were so many things she wanted to accomplish in life, but none of that really seemed to matter anymore. Nothing mattered._

 _A hot trickle rolled down her throat, the taste of rust never leaving her mouth. And then her Angel brought his hand down over her mouth and nostrils, keeping it there while her body involuntarily convulsed; fighting for air one last time._

 _And the world around her was sucked into a black hole._

Her eyes opened at once.

Nikita took the time to stretch her body, raising her arms over her head and pointing her toes down. She could feel the damp earth seeping through her clothes to meet the skin of her back. Letting out a long yawn, her bright eyes watched the leaves of trees dance above her so delicately in the morning breeze. The woods had welcomed back Nikita into its heart, the dense foliage providing her shelter from the rain. The twisted branches above her were curled, like the woods were ready to hold her in an embrace. She rolled her head to the side, spotting specks of dew sitting like sparkling diamonds atop the blades of grass. Glistening so immaculately beneath the pale light.

And while it was all so beautiful and serene, Nikita was feeling the ebb of a storm forming in her mind. There was no reason to be here.

She had grown to fear the woods.

Who knew what was truly lurking here aside from her own harrowing ghosts.

With a sharp sigh she sat up. Having woken up in the woods time after time had smartened Nikita, finally. The sage filled girl decided to go to bed in a full runner's outfit. That meant she went to bed in jogging pants, a shirt, a jacket, and her running shoes. After Stiles had left her, Nikita had to peel herself out of the bathtub and force herself to get dressed. It was so hard to move when she had felt so weighted to the tub, her safe place, but she had managed to do so. Her eyes were still red, raw, and puffy from crying so much.

Stiles didn't believe her. He threw around sharp and careless words such as 'crazy.' And now Nikita felt more isolated than ever.

She got up to her feet, trying to figure out where in the woods she had waken this time. Each time she had woken, she had woken further and further from Suicide Hill. Nikita stood there for a few moments trying to think of how she could get out of here, unsure of where she was. She spotted a straight line of quarters shaped into an arrow further up ahead. Her creep had taken the time to point the direction out of the woods; how unsettlingly sweet. Nikita followed the quarters, picking them up as she went along. It had lead her to a main road.

While walking along the edge of the road, several cars honked at her with irritation, attempting to keep her off the road for fear of hitting her. She was tired, emotionally fucked so severely, it felt crippling to her heart. She wanted to fall to the floor and cry for hours, crawl back inside that dry bathtub and never face the outside world again.

But the world had different plans for Nikita.

She stopped before a curious caul de sac. The faintest of smiles pulled at her chapped lips upon seeing the butter yellow home with the vines of purple buds growing on it. The home itself exuded sunshine when compared to all the Stepford like beige and eggshell colored homes. From a distance the loud and unmistakable sounds of punk music drifted in the air, upbeat and energetic. Nikita walked closer to the home, spotting Jonesy in the driveway. He was working on a motorbike, parts of the bike scattered about him messily. All the travesties of last night seemed to escape from her mind at the sight of Jonesy, it was always nice to see her friend. Perhaps because at the moment he may have been one of the very few she had.

As soon as he saw her he leapt up to his feet, delighted just by the mere sight of her, like he had been missing her for decades. Jonesy hadn't seen anything wrong with Nikita initially. To him it looked like she had finished up a jog. Until closer inspection, noticing the dead leaves intertwined in her long dark tresses. The two of them were caught staring for a second, neither sure how to start a conversation.

"Niki?" Jonesy finally speaking up, rubbing the black grease off his hands quickly onto a raggedy towel, trying to look as prim and proper as he could. His smile showed that he knew the two of them looked like actual messes, and he was acknowledging that, but not caring what they looked like.

"I uhm. I wanted to stop by and say hey!" Nikita wasn't the greatest at covering up lies, and Jonesy had a way of seeing through her bull shit. She shifted nervously, hoping Jonesy wouldn't make this into a thing.

"So...hey…" Nikita finished awkwardly, paying more attention to the deconstructed motorbike than Jonesy himself.

She looked completely horrendous, she knew. The tip of her nose was red and runny from the cold. Dead plants currently resided in her nest of hair. Her eyes were red and puffy from the night before. Lucky for her Jonesy had decided to forgo the questions.

Jonesy stuffed his hands into his pocket, wearing his soft and charismatic smile. Yet he still kept a distance from Nikita, as if not to smother her, overwhelm her for she was feeling so fragile these days. He always knew how to work with people, always knew what she needed.

"I'm always happy when you're here. You should come inside, I was going to work on my bike today, but that's not as fun as hanging out with you."

She wanted to say no, Nikita didn't want to bring her baggage to his front step on such a lovely Sunday morning. Jonesy didn't even give her a chance to come up with an excuse when he started walking off to the front steps.

He threw his head over his shoulder to give her a curious glance. "Are you coming in? Or what?"

Jonesy wasted no time getting Nikita cozy with a fluffy grey blanket and a hot cup of chamomile. He sat next to her, quietly examining her. He had yet to ask her what was going on, and for that she appreciated him. It was quiet between them. Quiet, but not uncomfortable. His home so lovely that it instantly soothed her worry soul. This time it was the scent of warm cinnamon and ground coriander that intertwined with the freshly cut Gardenias. Jonesy had even turned on the fireplace for her, he knew how much she had marveled over that fire place the first time she had seen it. The heat of it kissing her face so gently. Accompanied with the soft crackles of firewood, it was beginning to make her feel relaxed.

She knew what Jonesy was trying to do. He was trying to create a place where she felt safe, and far from lonely.

Nikita's eyes were on the table, where sheets of music were scattered about, most of the notes scribbled on there hastily.

"I didn't know you actually write music." Nikita taking a sip of her chamomile.

He perked up upon hearing her speak, breaking the silence between them. His long pale fingers ran through his dark hair, pulling it back for a moment before a messy locke sprung back, right above his eyes.

"Y-yeah! Yeah my mom taught me how to read music. I write pieces here and there."

Nikita hated denying Jonesy the truth, and now she looked to him, into those sky blue eyes. And they were so curious, and hopeful at the same time, like they were screaming to trust him. She couldn't bear to bring him into her mess, he was meant for a happier life.

"In fact!" Jonesy hopped over the back of the sofa, Nikita balancing the mug in her hand trying not to spill when he upset the balance. "I wrote you a song!"

"What!?" Nikita's face showing a subtle hint of a grin.

"Yeah! Just now, I decided!" Jonesy ran up the stairs with such excitement, like a seven year old boy getting ready to show off his collection of Pokemon cards.

This time she set her mug down on the table and was ready for him when he hopped over the sofa again to plunge into the cushions. This time he was accompanied by a ukulele, the kind that looks like a novelty toy that you pick up on your way out of a Honolulu airport. Jonesy took a moment to tune his instrument, twisting the knobs that pulled and tightened the strings. He looked to her from beneath his lashes, measuring her excitement. It was genuine excitement coming from her end, but not as much as she would usually exude.

"Ok, ummm." Jonesy clearing his throat, and he started playing a cheerful airy melody, strumming the four strings and swaying his head side to side. " I made this up on the spot, like right now, in my head so-"

Nikita hollowed out her hands, amplifying her voice like she were lost in the audience. "Play Free Bird!" She jeered at him, forcing herself to smile so that she didn't kill the mood.

"...No." Jonesy continuing with the melody. "I dedicate this song to my dear friend Nikita. Don't fuck with her shit or she'll run you over with her mini cooper."

"Wooo!" Nikita cheering him on with artificial enthusiasm. She was trying, she really was trying.

" La Senorita Nikita." Jonesy started in tune to the melody, his singing voice deeper and smoother than his normal talking voice. The Spanish came as a surprise to Nikita. She had nearly forgotten he was raised by a Spanish speaking father. And while his Spanish wasn't the best, and he had an American accent, she found this all to be endearing.

"La mas bonita de la escuelita."

"Pobersita Nikita, los tiempos son deficiles." Jonesy couldn't hide his brilliant smile, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he improvised the song.

And then it happened, she cracked the subtlest of smiles, a real one at that. It was impossible not to smile when Jonesy was serenading her so sweetly like this.

"pero nosotros encontraremos la manera en ser feliz."

He had managed to make her forget about Stiles for a moment. Only for a moment. The memories of last night were so fresh, she was still licking those wounds and hoping to forget. How could she forget the way Stiles looked at her? The way he spoke to her, like she were insane. Like she were a stray mutt that he wanted to give away. He had promised to always be on her side.

Stiles was cruel to her, much like the rest. But Jonesy? Jonesy was showing her so much kindness. Was it out of pity? Was he actually just a good person? She didn't even know how to receive this sort of humanity.

Then the tears came spilling out and Jonesy froze, stopping his song immediately. She was crying because of how kindly he always treated her, as if she were so depraved for something so damn simple. Jonesy put away his instrument and scooted even closer to her, grabbing a tissue box from the coffee table before them.

She graciously accepted the tissues, dabbing at her eyes.

"You don't have to tell me what's going on in your life, Niki. But you don't have to go through everything alone." He spoke so cautiously, looking rather panicked, unsure of how to console the hysterical girl on his couch.

"I wasn't alone. I had Stiles." Nikita thought bitterly to herself.

"I'm sorry." She said while quickly patting dry her cheeks. 'I'm just feeling a lot these days."

"A lot of what?'

"Everything. Every emotion. But mostly anger." Nikita thought of the whirlwind chaos that had surrounded her these days. Everything from those Eichen House Brochures, Erica giving her grief, Derek deserting her, Scott avoiding her, her and Allison's strained friendship, Lydia's breakdowns, her inconvenient morning strolls. And of course. Stiles. Who had promised to always be in her corner no matter what.

But he was a coward. A coward who tore her heart out when she was so hesitant to give it to him in the first place. Having given it to him under false pretenses. He never cared to tend after the affection she had given him. He only meant to turn his back on her like everyone else.

Jonesy's head quirked to the side, his mind running like cogs in a machine, formulating some way to make his friend smile again.

"I don't know how to help with much. But I do know what can take the edge off the anger you're feeling…."

The two of them entered the basement. Nikita following Jonesy.

Her eyes were trained on the rack of rifles stacked horizontally on the wall. A flower engrained on every oak handle. It was weird thinking they were hanging there for decoration, Jonesy swearing his Texan mother just collected them.

Once downstairs they approached Jonesy's drum kit. The kit itself was impressive, the color of a black pearl with many cymbals and stands. Nikita's forehead crinkled with a curiosity, wondering what her friend was up to. Jonesy grabbed a pair of drumsticks, spinning one between the fingers of his right hand. As he walked around the drum kit he watched her from the corner of his eyes, one of his sly smiles on display for her. The kind that always got her excited and curious, wondering what he was up to next.

Jonesy rolled up the sleeves of his black sweater to the creases of his arms and took his seat, still twirling the drumsticks between his fingers. And before Nikita knew it, he was banging away a machine gun-fast rhythm. He made it look so easy, so precise, so on beat like he were a human metronome. Nikita understood, this must have been a positive outlet for him when it came to taking out his anger.

Then he stopped and looked to her with his cheeky smile, pushing a dark curl out of his eyes. "Now it's your turn."

"Me?" Nikita pointing a finger at her chest to reiterate her surprise.

"C'mon, give it a try! I bet you're great at this too!"

Jonesy always had a way of inspiring others to do things they normally wouldn't do. The way he talked made it seem like he believed in Nikita, believed she could do anything she wanted. It was easy for him to blossom confidence in people when they couldn't even see it within themselves. He had that sort of charm to him. Trusting in every way.

He tugged at her hand, leading her to stand before the drum kit, before pulling her to sit on his lap. Jonesy then slid the drumsticks into her hands, Nikita grinning ear to ear, unsure of where to even start. Several chrome cymbals and high toms stared at back at Nikita, she peered over her shoulder to see Jonesy's sparkling blue eyes looking to her with an eagerness. His hands wrapped around hers, in a firm but gentle grip. He could rest his chin on her shoulder and she wouldn't mind, instead he guided her hands to a high tom, making her drum over the chrome plate in tiny taps. Starting out slow, letting her get a feel for the drum. With his hand around hers, and the drumsticks in Nikita's grip, they began to play together.

Jonesy let loose on the drum kit, Nikita bashing against the snares and cymbals. He was controlling her hands, going up and down rapidly, but she was the one holding the drumsticks. Her careless and gleeful laughter lifted into the air to intertwine with Jonesy's as they played the drums. The rhythm grew faster so that her hand was jerking out in different directions, Jonesy's knee bouncing her up and down.

Then it ended with a 'clank' on the cowbell.

"YES!" Jonesy cheered on, Nikita still caught in hearty laughter to say much.

This all reminded her far too much of the other night, when her hands were in Stiles' and he was guiding her careful across the ice. Except this time her hands were in Jonesy's. Nikita shut her eyes, wanting to think of anything but Stiles...it was impossible.

Guilt had a way of crawling out, unwarranted, to drag Nikita back into it a harrowing pit. She shouldn't have been laughing and smiling and having a good time.

"Stiles broke up with me." Nikita lamented so quickly that all the happy energy in the room was zapped like a fly into a lantern, Jonesy remaining thoughtfully quiet. She looked over her shoulder in order to read Jonesy's expression. It wasn't sympathy she saw there, more like confusion. Jonesy so unsure on how to approach this topic.

"I mean. We weren't technically together." Nikita backtracking now. "I figured eventually we would end up-"

"-I'm sorry, Nikita….what happened?"

Heavenly blue eyes flashed with frustration. A sight that was rarely seen upon Jonesy's otherwise friendly face. A quiet fell upon them both, the two of them studying each other, locked in each other's soft was like she was noticing Jonesy for the first time, perhaps it was because they were so close to each other.

His full lips always had an upward curve to them, no matter how he was feeling. She marveled at how blue his eyes were. They were two vaults of cerulean, or perhaps they were similar to a July sky, a color not even found upon the Pantone chart. How did such cold colors exude so much warmth? How did one person radiate so much kindness. Nikita wasn't even worthy of being his friend.

His hands let go of hers to fall at his side. Even though she was on his lap, Jonesy didn't want to touch her any longer than he had to, in fear of making Nikita feel uncomfortable.

"He uhm." Nikita hesitating, why was it easy to be so open and honest with Jonesy? "He called me crazy and said we shouldn't be together anymore."

"He's stupid." Jonesy chasing her sentence.

"Do you believe me, Jonesy?"

"Yeah...Yeah I believe you." He said without hesitation nor asking for an explanation. His faith in her blind, for he was loyal to his friends, and trusting. "I would believe anything you told me because you have never given me a reason to question your integrity."

Then the sound of traveling footsteps came from above them. Someone was in a rush, heading out of the house. The wooden floorboards above them creaked like it were breathing. It must have been Alex, Nikita got up on her feet, her mossy eyes following the sounds across the ceiling.

"Where does he go?" Like...what does he do with all his time?"

Curiosity had a way of scratching at her mind, her mouth lacking what most would call a filter. While she couldn't't stand Alex, she couldn't deny the fact that he carried an air of mystery to him. He didn't look like he belonged, mostly because he acted like he didn't belong. While Nikita held questioning him about his past life, she started to learn more about him.

Nikita and Alex had more in common than one would think. Both of their lives documented forever in newspapers. Hers being the night of Formal and all the drama that came with it, and Alex's near climb to success.

Jonesy stood up as well, pushing the stool in. His fingers came to scratch at the sparse stubble beneath his chin. "Not sure, to be honest. He just kind of does his own thing, and sometimes comes home for dinner."

At the word 'dinner' Nikita's stomach let out the most vicious growl. Long and agitated. It felt like there was a little monster living in the pits of her belly, nothing seemed to satiate it, and all it wanted was to claw its way out and devour everything within sight. Nikita brought her hand over her stomach as if to pacify that wicked little thing.

"You're hungry." Jonesy making it seem more like a sympathetic statement more than anything. "I'll whip you up something real quick! Or I can throw some pizza bagels in the oven?"

And while she trusted Jonesy's culinary efforts more than her own, she knew she should get home, because being alone right now sounded like exactly what she needed. Nikita felt so tired and drained, her eyelids heavy. She had barely slept the night before, and couldn't muster anymore efforts in pretending to be okay when she clearly wasn't.

"Actually, I think i'm going to head out. Go home and nap for a bit." Nikita crossing her arms over her chest, suddenly her home, where she spent many hours alone, sounded like her safe place. And she couldn't wait to get back home.

Jonesy wasn't wearing his soft smile, but he looked to her with understanding. "Sure, how about I drop you off?"

* * *

\- Scott's POV-

His claws shredded ribbons of frost into the air as he glided across the slick ice, etching long scratches into the pristine rink. Scott fought to keep the animal rage within him, tame it like the wild beast he was. It was only a couple of hours when Lydia and Nikita had thrown themselves to the floor at this very ice rink, he could still hear the blood curdling screams sharply grating his ears. The Beta had not been sure if they had actually seen something, a reflection? a monster? Or had they reached their breaking point, shattering their sanity to dust?

Scott's hard gaze cut across the ice.

Derek Hale stood across from him, clad in his black jacket and his newfound confident smile. His two Beta's stood right behind him, still as obedient soldiers. Ever since Derek became an Alpha he turned into an over confident leader; recruiting innocent confused teenagers into his pack. Erica had gone from a sweet and quiet girl to a predatorial snobbish bully. And Isaac went from a fly on the wall to a once wanted fugitive. Scott's gaze softened as it landed on Boyd, who sat still on the Zambone.

Boyd had not been turned yet, he still had a fighting chance of living a normal life...Scott would give anything to have a normal life. Receiving the bite was no gift, it was a curse. Guilt hung onto Scott like a monkey on his back. If he hadn't turned into a werewolf Stiles wouldn't have to keep his secrets and push people away, he and Allison wouldn't have to date in secrecy. Lydia, Nikita, and Jackson may have had a shot at living normal lives. But alas, he was nothing but a monster.

Derek closed his eyes and sniffed at the air, his nostrils flaring as he took in the smells around them. Scott could smell it too, the acrid unmistakable scent of white jasmine and coppery blood...Nikita's blood.

"What happened to her?" Derek's voice grim, laced with a certain hint of sadness "What did you do?"

Scott stared at the spot where Nikita was clawing at the ice earlier, he remembered the shocking contrast of crimson splayed across the icy sea of white. Derek's accusation hit him like a train. Scott let out a faint growl. The idea of Scott hurting anyone was preposterous, it angered him that Derek could think he would hurt Nikita. His best friend's interest, Dr. Grace's daughter, and in some ways... His friend.

"I did nothing." Scott growled "She had a breakdown, saw something in the ice."

Isaac and Erica exchanged confused glances, while Boyd's dark eyes darted between the Alpha and Scott.

" I told you she's crazy, she must be the one killing everyone." Erica hissed, Isaac let out a laugh. "She goes missing for five days and no one says anything, and now all these dead bodies?"

Scott could feel his eyes glowing a molten gold, they were accusing an innocent girl of being a murderer.

"SHE'S NOT A KILLER!" Derek shouted with impatience, causing Erica to take a step back, fearing her Alpha. Even Scott had jumped at the booming voice, Derek certainly was intimidating when he wanted to be.

"She doesn't have a mean bone in her body, Niki would never harm anyone!" Derek's voice growing softer now.

The Alpha's attention returned to Scott now, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac silent behind him. "Any leads with the Lizard?"

"Why should I tell you? You never tell me anything." Scott standing tall against Derek, he was done with the Alpha. "And you think turning another teenager is going to help you with this? You stop with this, and maybe then I'll tell you what I know."

A sly smile spread across Derek's face as his Beta's emitted low growls, no one could give Derek an ultimatum. The Alpha showed no traces of fear, in fact he found Scott's display of leadership to be highly amusing. But to him, Scott was nothing but a scared boy; as green as grass.

"And I suppose you're here to stop me?" With a nod of his head, Erica and Isaac elongated their claws, getting ready to take Scott down.

Scott crouched to the ground in a fighting stance, digging the tips of his claws in the ice and letting out a roar as both Isaac and Erica approached him, ready to fight. The new Betas had no clue what they were in for...

* * *

\- Nikita's POV-

The car rolled up to her driveway. Nikita and Jonesy exchanged confused glances, Lydia was waiting at her front door. By the look of it she was fuming mad, pacing back and forth, mascara tracks down her red puffy cheeks.

"On second thought, those Pizza Bagels sound really good." Nikita throwing Jonesy a helpless glance.

He opened his mouth when Lydia came knocking at the passenger side window, Jonesy clamping his mouth shut and rolling the window down.

"Where the hell have you been!?" Lydia's pink tipped nose scrunched with annoyance. 'I've called you like twelve -freaking - times! Have you two been sucking face!?"

Nikita let out a puff of air before sinking in her seat, feeling completely mortified, even with Jonesy's calm. Perhaps the next time she went to bed she should have a fully charged phone waiting in her pocket.

"Thank you for everything." She muttered to him before unchecking her seat belt and hopping out.

"No prob." Jonesy's eyes ping-ponging between an irritated Lydia and Nikita, who was already subdued in her own silence. "I'll see you tomorrow at school. You too Lydia!"

Lydia gave him a borderline American Psycho era Christian Bale smile as she rested her arms on the open window of the passenger side. "See you tomorrow J.J. And when you see your best friend, Jackson, tell him to go suck the exhaust fumes in the tailpipe on his Jaguar….ok?"

Jonesy's strong brows arched slowly, cautiously. "Uhm. That was weirdly specific and mildly terrifying…so….I'm just..." He began to slowly roll up the window, stewing in awkwardness.

With that he drove off, leaving the two girls. Lydia shooting her a pointed look. " How are you even juggling two men right now? I can't even hold onto one."

She didn't even bother dignifying Lydia's ignorant comment. Instead Nikita dug out the house key from beneath a planter, bringing the two inside the large home.

"He break up with you?" Nikita so casually asked while she hung her jacket on a hook, none of this came as a shock to her. Jackson was the most unstable piece of shit around town.

"Through text." Lydia admitted in a shaky voice, following Nikita into the living room. "Through a god damn text because I guess I'm not even worth his time. Said I can't offer him what he wants."

The two of them slumped onto the couch at the same time and let out the longest sighs.

"I don't think Jackson even knows what he wants." Nikita's elbow resting on the arm of the couch, and she turned the T.V on."

"I worked out my jaw for him." Lydia sighing and shaking her head, looking off into the distance. "You think I like being on my knees? A lady does not get on her knees for anyone."

Nikita, still much too forelone to even emote the disgust she felt about this conversation. "Yeah plus, you'll get premature mouth wrinkles like that."

"WHAT!?" Lydia falling into a pit of despair.

She let out a sigh, knowing she would have to tell Lydia what had happened between her and Stiles. Nikita was prepared for Lydia to celebrate the end of that relationship, for her friend never truly supported it in the first place.

"Stiles left me, He thinks i'm crazy." Niki had finally spoken the words she had so desperately tried to avoid, as if saying them meant it was true, meant she indeed was crazy. The memory of him walking away from her, leaving her small and frail in the empty tub played over in her head.

"Are you serious!?" Lydia exclaimed loudly, turning her body so that she was facing Nikita. "You're telling me that dweeb dumped you?"

A blanket of silence fell upon them except for the humming of her fridge. Nikita bit down on the side of her thumb, not wanting to cry right now, she had cried for hours already. Her eyes avoiding Lydia's sympathetic gaze, glued to the white fringe of the carpet.

"Are you ok?" Her friend asked softly.

Nikita could only shake her head.

Lydia then pulled Nikita in for a hug, the side of her face resting uncomfortably at her friend's bosom. Normally Nikita would have pulled away, but it felt nice to be comforted by her friend who understood first hand what Nikita was going through, for Lydia was going through the same thing. She could hear Lydia's sniffles and her heart broke for her too. Although Jackson was a terrible person, which everyone knew, Lydia had truly loved him, had even gone back on her morals just to be with him. She was feeling at a loss too.

Nikita pulled away, seeing the tears in Lydia's bright olive eyes was starting to make her misty eyed as well, and she quickly wiped a stray tear with the back of her hand.

"We're not going to sit here and wallow." Nikita said between sniffles. "We're going to eat ice cream and remember how much better we are than those two. Ben and Jerry, you game?"

"Count me in." Lydia's lower lip still trembling, but she was trying, they both were.

Wallow is exactly what they did.

Hours into their wallowing and the two were dressed in sweatpants, sprawled over the couch, watching the Sex and The City movie, and on their second tub of chunky monkey ice cream and a collection of snacks around them. Nikita watched intently as the main protagonist Carrie beat her fiance with a bouquet of flowers after he stood her up at the altar.

The water works started again for Lydia " How could Mr. Big do that to her!?" She hardly managed a coherent sentence between her sobs and a mouth full of ice cream.

The feeling of abandonment was tearing Nikita from the inside, both Stiles and Derek had walked away from her. And now heartbreak was pulling her into a pit of despair and self pity. Again Nikita's vision blurred with tears, as she felt the emptiness in her chest. She was in so much pain and still so numb at the same time, she wondered if Stiles felt it too? She hoped he felt it too, hoped he was curled up in a ball, aching for her.

a loud shrill ring of the doorbell distracted her thoughts, Lydia looked at her from the floor "Are you going to get that? Or.."

Nikita blew a strand of dark wavy hair off her face with a defeated sigh as she got up from her very comfortable position from the couch. Her bare feet padded across the cold marble floor, she opened the door; hoping in her hearts of heart Stiles was on the other side coming to apologize to her.

To her dismay, it wasn't Stiles.

Instead it was the most unwelcome sight.

There he stood, looking like a young Alain Delon during the Purple Noon days, with a cocky smile as if he knew a secret she was unaware of. A lit cigarette hung limp from the corner of his full lips, smoke hanging thickly in the air around him. Sunglasses shielded his brilliant blue eyes, and he had that stupid leather jacket on.

"...Sup." Was all Alex said before Nikita slammed the door shut on him, turning on her heels to walk away.

Another ring of the doorbell came, Nikita rolling her head back so she was staring at the ceiling, and she let out a groan. She did not have the patience or energy to put up with Alex 'motherfucking' Jones. Not today. Not ever.

The ringing grew to be more incessant and impatient, like a child with a button. Nikita swung the door open, gritting down on her teeth. Dear god he had the same capacity to annoy her as an ingrown hair.

"WHAT!?" Nikita's temper boiling.

With a flick of his wrist he threw the still lit cigarette into a planter and ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. Alex rested his now free hand onto the door frame, leaning towards the inside of the home to poke his head inside, his other hand holding a box Nikita knew much too well. A box from the Le Choux Bakery.

"A little birdie told me that you were hungry. So Olivia had me drop these off, specially made for you." Alex waving the box back and forth beneath Nikita's nose. She could smell the sweet confectioneries inside, how her stomach whined.

Alex's grin grew even wider. " That same birdie told me you were looking for me."

Nikita's eyes grew wide in horror and humiliation, she wanted so badly to smack Jonesy on the back of his head.

Alex pushed past her bumping into her shoulder, without an invite or a care in the world. "You flatter me, Jailbait. But I thought I told you, you're not my type."

With her teeth gritted so tight they could crumble, Nikita followed Alex into the living room, fuming mad while he rambled on about what he would rather be doing than dropping off Olivia's baked goods. If he was so against this why was he still here?

"You haven't been hanging around with that Derek Hale dude, have you?"

She noticed the back of his black leather jacket read the words HATE in white scribbled lettering, perhaps hand painted. Nikita grabbed the back of his jacket, forcing him to stop in his tracks before he could go any further into the home. This wasn't the first time Alex had inquired about Derek, and every time he spoke his name it was filled with unsubtle animosity and distaste. She could see his shoulders tensing underneath the black leather, the profile of his jaw tightening...undoubtedly he was annoyed.

Nikita let go of his leather and recoiled her hand quickly. "Why do you hate Derek? An ex-boyfriend or something?" She thought she was so clever and witty with that one.

Alex turned to face her, carefully putting his sunglasses away in his pocket. She hated the amused smile that grew on his face, making her own dissolve. "If only he were so lucky to have me. Nobody wants to ride Derek's dick of death these days. You hop on, then you literally die soon after."

"Ew." Nikita muttered to herself.

"Bless his heart, his dick is only the epicenter of that curse, it even affects those around him"

Nikita's face scrunching in confusion. "What does that even mean?"

Alex shrugged. "I would say ask his past lovers.."

And now her eyes narrowed on him, she honestly didn't know a thing of Derek's past lovers. "Wait what?"

He went on to ignore her like she were some unworthy mutt when he turned on his heels and entered the living room. Upon sight of a messy crying Lydia and a pigsty of a room Alex turned around to give Nikita a heated glare dripping with disgust, and now she felt so ashamed that he was judging her, she could feel a wild blush tingling at the apples of her cheeks.

And now she was doing that subtle stretch of the arm but you're actually smelling yourself, Nikita decided a bath was a must for her.

Alex swallowed uneasily. "What...the hell... did I just walk into?"

Like a frantic animal found in a trap, he looked for possible escape routes, Nikita directly in his path; his shockling blue eyes darting around in search for the closest exit.

" I was dumped this morning." Nikita let out a sniffle. She had no idea why she would divulge the information to Alex, he was prickly as a cactus, as comforting as an old sock.

His right eye twitched with annoyance. "I don't remember asking or caring."

A tidal wave of emotions hit her as she realized how lonely she truly was. Save for Lydia and Jonesy. Niki had no one. Stiles and Derek had abandoned her, Scott always seemed to avoid her, Allison would try but ultimately she followed Scott. Her father was always pulling long shifts at the hospital. And now here she was, crying to the king of Heartless Bastards. Why was he so mean?

She ran to the couch and curled up beside her friend, someone who would at least give her comfort and affection.

"I don't remember the last time I was single!" Lydia cried out, grey mascara filled tears rolling down her cheeks.

Alex gripped his hair in despair with his free hand and watched with wide eyed mortification as the two girls unraveled stupendously before him. This was a shit-show Alex wanted no part of.

"No no! Don't cry! Why is Strawberry Shortcake crying too!?" he motioned towards Lydia. "Did you two sync up or something?"

Carefully, filled to the brim with as much caution as one playing an intense game of Jenga, he edged near the coffee table in front of them; treating them like feral beasts. "I'm just going to leave this here and fuck off for the rest of your lives." Alex putting the box down on the glass coffee table.

Nikita locked eyes with him while he was still bent over with the box, and at once his face softened, a subtle expression of sadness spread across Alex's face. Had Alex ever felt heartache? Was it possible he felt her heart break? Was he emphasizing for her? She stared deep into his steely blues.

It was peculiar. The brothers had the same exact coloring in their eyes. Both truly were brilliant. If they were the sea, Jonesy would be that of the Adriatic Sea, beautiful, peaceful. Alex more comparable to the Arctic Sea, with flecks of grey swimming around his irises. And while Jonesy's eyes were so deep, familiar, hopeful even. Alex's were cold, that hopeful and ambitious spark Jonesy possessed was nowhere to be seen behind Alex's pale eyes. Alex's eyes looked tired, the lust for life had gone lackluster. For a moment it felt like the two of them were the only ones in the room, a dark windowless room without a door, a room where no one could hurt her. A sudden bolt of adrenaline and calmness ran through her veins all at once causing a surge of shocking energy to drip from the base of her neck, all the way down her spine...column by column. Nikita inhaled a sharp rush of air, it felt as though she was breathing fresh air for the first time

What just happened? It was unexplainable, indescribable, unreal.

Alex, as always, looked put off, more so than usual. "Eat up." Was all he said before leaving her and Lydia.

"I would be an asshole like him if I too flunked out of a full ride to MIT." Lydia resting her head on the cushion and surfing through the T.V channels. "I mean how can someone so smart stop caring? I don't plan on messing up like him."

Nikita's thoughts were already off Alex when she went on to open the pastry box to be greeted by eight large red velvet cupcakes. Her finger ran around the edge of one, picking up some delicate frosting, to bring it to her mouth. "Want some Lydia?"

"Are you kidding me? That'll stick to my ass." Lydia not taking her gaze off the T.V with her hand in a bag of chips.

Nikita's stomach was screaming even louder now, gurgling with a madness, begging to be fed. She had been eating, forcing herself to eat three meals a day even though nothing seemed to fix the never ending hole in the pit of her stomach. She shrugged and grabbed a cupcake, peeling the paper off. Buttery, rich, creamy textures combined with the sweetest taste in the world exploded on her taste buds, Nikita swore her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she relished in the heavenly crimson cupcake that only a goddess such as Olivia could procure.

Nothing was sweeter than this.

God. She could eat these forever.

* * *

Allison's POV

"Find anything good?" Scott asked in a hush tone.

The two of them walked side to side down the school hall, making sure not to stand too close. For they weren't supposed to have a relationship. Hiding a relationship was one of the harder things Allison had to do amongst the thick of chaos in her life. She just wanted her pinkie to slip into his waiting hand, to be able to be held by him whenever she pleased. But they had to pretend they were only acquaintances in order to protect Scott from her Grandfather. In some ways she was doing the same to Nikita, only it was a slower detachment from her friend than a grand sever like she supposedly did with Scott.

Allison dug into her backpack to pull out an old paperback book. "The School library doesn't have much, luckily Deaton let me borrow one of his books."

Her, Scott, and Stiles had been racking their brains in trying to figure out what the Lizard creature was. Days had gone by and it created a trail of bodies that pointed to nothing. Allison herself was almost a casualty at one point. Derek was absolutely useless in the situation. He had created two Betas in the name of finding Nikita, and now Boyd was his next protege in order to strengthen his pack and fight off the homicidal Lizard.

She leant against a random locker next to the water fountain, Scott right next to her. Allison opened the bookmarked page, letting Scott peer at it with her. "Well it's in Archaic Latin, I asked Ms. Morel to translate some of it for me."

Scott's eyes scanned the halls, making sure her grandfather was nowhere in sight.

"For starters, we can stop calling it a homicidal Lizard. It's a Kanima. Its razor sharp claws produce a paralytic venom. The creature dwells in solitude. Since it lives in loneliness it often seeks out a friend."

A familiar boisterous laughter caught Allison's attention, her dark eyes cutting across the book to land on Jonesy. He was with Nikita, the two of them in conversation unaware of those around them. Although Nikita didn't look as cheerful as Jonesy, nowhere near ecstatic...she looked... alright.

A subtle smile pulled at the corner of Allison's lips as she watched them cross the hall, shoulder to shoulder. She was smiling because she was happy Nikita had someone reliable in life, because Allison knew she couldn't fill that role, no matter how badly she wanted to. Even though she was happy in that moment, it did nothing to lift the boulder of guilt Allison felt with the situation surrounding Nikita. It was all so messed up, how they had to lie and isolate her. But they had to keep her head above water while the rest of them wallowed with uncertainty in the deep end.

Jonesy's eyes lifted off Nikita for a moment to look to Allison as they were passing. That boyish smile of his lit Allison's own smile even more brighter. Until his gaze went back to Nikita. Allison's smile began to falter upon remembering what she had read on the Kanima only moments ago. And now nausea began to tear at the inside of her stomach. She could feel the heat of panic sweep across her face, how could she be thinking of such wild thoughts?

But it made so much sense.

She hadn't heard Scott calling her name, her eyes glued to the backs of Nikita and Jonesy as they vanished into the crowd of students, gone from her view. It was the shrill bell for their next period that had caught their attention, causing Allison to jump and shut the book suddenly.

Allison shook her head, she must get rid of these thoughts before she started to plant toxic seeds in her mind.

* * *

Can't wait until the next chapter. I have lots of feels to hit you guys with!

Jonesy's song, written by moi and XxBriannaxX: The senoirita Nikita, the most beautiful girl at school. poor girl, times are tough, but we'll find a way to be happy


	28. Chapter 28

Hello everyone! Thank you to those of you who reviewed my last chapter. You guys are freaking amazing and I appreciate how much motivation and love you guys give me. It honestly gives me that push I need to write, so your comments, your opinions, your reviews make such a difference, you have no idea! Thank you: It belongs in a museum, Feral lahey, Wildrecklessyouthinme, Beccasco, peachy48, The weretype, and Survivor girl. I am so lucky to have the best readers/reviewers. Kudos to those of you who are catching up! Your input still matters!

Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Also, this website loves taking random sentences out of my writing. Even though i've double checked for grammar on here, please pm me if you see any sentences missing.

* * *

'Are you scared, Nikita Grace?"

The black marker squeaked against the wall of the bathroom stall she was in. Nikita felt so drawn to those words, hearing the gruff voice in her head night after night. Her angel, her savior, her Reaper. She wasn't thinking when she wrote the sentence in a very public place for people to see, her mind having blanked for a moment.

Then came more squeaking of the marker as she scribbled out her name, the last thing she needed was detention for destroying school property. She looked to her vandalism, deciding it was all stupid to begin with, so she blacked out the entire thing, redacted. Her eyes roamed across the inside of the powder blue stall, taking in the poetry and musings along the walls. There was a nice poem about women being fierce warriors, little flowers drawn around it. Nikita was the last person she would consider to be fierce. In fact she found herself to be meek, spineless, ashamed of how withdrawn she had become. So withdrawn Nikita was hiding out in the bathroom, trying to avoid the general public of Beacon Hills High.

'Erica Reyes shakes like her mother's vibrator." another line read, in dark blue marker.

"Jesus." Nikita muttered to herself, disgusted with what she had read. Sure, Erica was a frumpy looking duckling who had turned into a raging bitch swan, but no one deserved that kind of treatment. It was insensitive, and disgusting to the point of drawing out Nikita's empathy for Erica, of all Nikita crossed out that line too, it was now a black rectangle with hearts drawn along the border, stark amongst the negative space around it. Her deed would go unnoticed, but she didn't mind.

Nikita finally emerged from the bathroom, self satisfied, but still timid to be out of a safe space. Alas, Erica Reyes herself was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting her boobs in her bra so that they were up to her chin. Nikita froze for a moment when their eyes met, Erica's ambers burning into Nikita's hazels. Her eyes quickly peeled away from Erica's reflection and she slowly approached the sink to wash her hands.

"Look who it is." Erica in her usual slow drawl, like she were trying out for the part of an evil step-sister.

She didn't want to even engage in conversation, Erica lived to make her quiver with anger. Nikita shook her wet hands over the sink, droplets of water hitting the eggshell porcelain. Plus she felt soft for the blonde after what she had read in the stall.

"Someone left you a gift." Erica pointed to the farthest corner of the mirror with her lipstick. "It certainly wasn't meant for you."

Nikita turned her head to see a familiar blue brochure staring at her, and like that the lump in her throat began to grow.

She quickly grabbed it to rip it in half, finding it impossible to rip. Someone had gone through great lengths to laminate the damn thing. This got Erica to laugh so hard that she dropped her lipstick in the sink. A string of curses spewed from her mouth as she retrieved it, it had gotten dirty and covered in hair. Nikita pushed out the door, breathing heavily so she wouldn't cry.

A sarcastic "awwww" from Erica followed her out the door.

"Keep your head down, and don't mind the stares." She reminded herself as she traversed through the crowded hallway.

Nikita felt like she had the word LOSER scribbled across her forehead in red ink. Jackson had very publicly dumped her, and now word was getting out about how Stiles had dumped her as well. Even if no one had said anything about it, it was obvious and plain to see that the two of them were no longer an item. Sharing classes with Stiles was hard enough already, she had moved her seat to the front of the class, putting as much distance between them as she possibly could. To make matters worse, Lydia had another break down during class, her ear raking scream bringing half the class down to their knees.

Lydia's scream echoed in Nikita's head like a pistol ricocheting in an empty chamber.

And now her eyes roamed across the glossed pages of an Eichen House brochure. They were everywhere, Nikita was nothing more than a joke. The models in the brochure looked so artificial with their plastic smiles and vacant eyes.

One couldn't tell the the ridicule weighed her down. It was like carrying a dead body, one that laughed and mocked her constantly. No one would ever see the hurt she carried inside, but that mask that Ms. Morell had called her out on was starting to crumble. Keeping her composure was getting hard each and every day. She had to. She couldn't give these people even an ounce of her displeasure, they fed off of it. Nikita had to keep herself together until the next hot gossip came along, with this stupid town, it certainly would.

Nikita tucked the brochure into her book bag, and rounded the hall, looking for Jonesy. She had found him in a classroom, peering at him from the door window. He seemed to be busy with his yearbook committee, sitting criss cross atop a desk and addressing his crew. She could see Matt across from Jonesy, the two of them swapping film canisters. He looked to be busy, she was hoping someone, aside from Lydia, would keep her company.

A rather hasty student had nearly walked right into her, as if she were completely invisible, or more than likely...unimportant. They stopped in their tracks and pulled their navy hood down. It was of all people, Jackson Whittemore.

She cringed at the mere sight of him, and he cringed right back. The two of them looked far from functioning and highly unappealing to the other. She had heard Jackson had turned out to be very erratic these days, even more short tempered, and looking like sixteen wheeler had run him over, backed up and dragged him across the dirt. She wondered if that was what he thought of her.

Nikita didn't owe him any kindness even if his eyes were begging for it, he had after all just dumped her best friend. A small part of her almost enjoyed how unraveled Jackson was looking these days. Inn the back of her mind Nikita knew it was like looking into a mirror.

"Hey." Jackson managed to say, she could see the impatient bounce in his knees, as if he had better things to do.

Nikita wrapped her arms around her stomach, hating whatever this was. "...Hi…"

"You look…" Jackson giving her the elevator stare, looking at her up and down. "Better than I expected, actually."

"Thanks. I wish I could tell you the same, Jackson. If it's any consolation I guess you're doing a great job with rocking the heroine chic look..." Nikita finding no reason to dabble in common courtesy, Jackson didn't even deserve that much. This would only bruise his ego further, Jackson cared so much about his looks above almost everything.

He didn't lash out like she had expected him to, instead it looked like he were about to crumble before her. It created a fissure of satisfaction in Nikita, if only she could have sunk her teeth further into sweet pettiness. Some would call it her own naivete, others might call it compassion, but Nikita felt terrible now. She thought of what she could say to perhaps cheer him up, even though Jackson was undeserving of her kindness, for he had always pushed it away.

"Whatever." Jackson sighing out and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Since when did Jackson Whittemore use a backpack? "Know where I can find Derek Hale? You're like related to him, right?"

Any feelings of empathy was chased right out by anger and annoyance. There was that name again, a name belonging to someone she thought to have known. Derek had still given her radio silence, having ghosted out of Nikita's life. She never expected such harsh treatment coming from someone she had known for years. His excuse of her reminding him of Cora was such crap, he had used Cora's ghost to put a wedge between them. She didn't care if he didn't want to see her anymore, but she wanted to know why.

"Are you best friend with him too!?"

Jackson's brilliant eyes widened at her accusations. "What the hell Niki…"

"Are young teenage boys his type or something?" She couldn't even believe the words that were coming out of her mouth, it felt like she were a puppet and someone else was controlling her speech.

Jackson's face contorted in disgust. He was done before this conversation even began. "That's disgusting. Paranoid much?" With that he made his leave, making sure to bump into Nikita's shoulder.

Paranoid.

The only word that seemed to fit her these days. Paranoid of fictional creatures running around town. Paranoid that everyone in this town was in on some secret she had no part of.

* * *

-Stiles POV-

His lips were pressed together firmly, in order to fight the impulse to run his mouth and rant. Both he and Scott were in the locker room, getting ready for the big game. There were too many bodies here, taking up any room left for concentration. It smelled much too strongly of sweaty socks and old spice. Stiles' hands shook as he attempted to lace his lacrosse stick, the stress of nearly everything was eating him alive. He shut his eyes, trying with a desperation to rid himself of what kept him up at night. What image did he find more disturbing? The car mechanic whom the Kanima crushed the other night? Or the image of Nikita in that bathtub, those tear stained cheeks and quivering lips forming the words 'why?' It was the last time they truly spoke.

Stiles had seen her around school, the two of them actively avoiding each other, they couldn't even stare at each other. She couldn't bare the look of him, his face probably made her feel violently ill. Probably the same feeling he got when watching Greenberg dig into his belly button for lint. While she couldn't stand the sight of him, Stiles was still enraptured so heavily by her, he would always find her to be stunning, fragile, untouchable. And never to be his.

It felt like he had been walking around with a giant cavity in his chest, where his heart once was, where Nikita had effortlessly made a home. He had ripped out his own heart, and hers, in one go.

He swallowed thickly, everything tasted bitter since the last words he spoke to Nikita had rolled off his tongue.

It was the right thing to do.

It was the hardest thing he ever had to do.

But it was right. There was no other way.

And now that the days have gone by, more and more people were meeting their gruesome deaths thanks to the Kanima. Derek was very little help in this case, finding the Kanima to be a perfect excuse to strengthen his pack, much like he did when Nikita went missing. It was a fruitless effort then, much like it was now. His actions had only added more stress to Stiles, Scott, and Allison. It was bad enough snarky Erica was running around the school halls like she owned the place, Gerard Argent was on their tails, keeping an eye open for any signs of the supernatural. They knew so very little of the Kanima, only that it was a lonely creature searching for a friend or a companion...whatever that meant.

"You really dump Nikita Grace?" Isaac was half naked, leaning against one of the lockers with his arms crossed over his stupidly sculpted chest.

Stiles went to ignore Isaac, putting his focus back on his laces, he kept screwing up, having to relace. Just then the wrestling team burst into the locker room, rambunctious as ever. Clearly they had won their game, celebrating Jonesy, their captain in a sea of pats and lame-ass fist bumps with the explosions at the end.

"How does a guy like you end up with Nikita in the first place?" Isaac scratching at the budding hairs under his chin, lost in his thoughts. "Look at you, look at her."

He gave the impish werewolf a deep glare. "Clearly she saw something special in me."

"Desperation does that to a woman." Isaac sounding like he actually knew what he was talking about when in fact he's never talked to a girl.

Stiles felt like dirt, lower than dirt, below bedrock, sediments of rot. "Yeah...you're probably right."

His pitiful and sad ways only garnered a giant eye roll from Isaac, finding no fun in this situation if Stiles wasn't going to at least attempt to bite back. Scott approached them both, getting Isaac to shut up before he hurled another insult. The two werewolves were doing some freaky dominance eye-stare thing, Stiles going back to his strings.

That's when Jonesy plopped on the same bench Stiles was sitting on, causing him to startle.

"Fucking Jonesy, don't do that!" Stiles having yet to lift his eyes from his strings, focus was so hard to come by, he couldn't even perform the simplests of tasks.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you." Jonesy patting Stiles' back, he shrugged Jonesy's hand off of him. The beloved captain of the wrestling was nothing more than a mere vulture to Stiles. As soon as Stiles had left Nikita's side, Jonesy had swept in, looking even more heroic than ever. It bothered Stiles to no end, and only fed his deep hatred of Jonesy which had been blossoming for years now.

"You didn't scare me." Stiles mumbled, still not giving Jonesy any eye contact, it was best to pretend he didn't even exist. Maybe he would go away.

"I've never seen him jump so high." Isaac chuckled from where he was standing, giving Stiles a smug shit-eating grin. "See, twigs? You're good at something!"

Jonesy snatched the lacrosse stick from Stiles' grips, taking it upon himself to string it. It may have been a sign of comradery, Jonesy only wanted to help; but it made Stiles dislike him more. It certainly garnered Stiles attention though, he was looking at Jonesy now. He didn't understand how people could find him to be attractive. Jonesy was pale, sickly, ghastly even; tall to the point where he looked awkward and lanky. He had a small slump in his posture, perhaps because he had to look down to people when talking to them. His hair always looked unbrushed, dark strands falling messily above his eyes.

"Are you thinking of joining the team?" Isaac purposely asking Jonesy just to irk Stiles. "We could use someone fit and athletic like you."

Jonesy finished lacing Stiles' lacrosse stick for him, Stiles snatching it back and holding it close to his chest, shooting ice cold daggers into Isaac for even bringing up such an awful question.

"I've been thinking of it, actually. But I don't know." Jonesy crossing an ankle over his knee so he can untie his shoes. This peeved Stiles to the point where he had to pull his hoodie tight over his head, then he yanked at the cords hoping it would strangle him so he wouldn't have to sit here next to Jonesy.

Isaac's eyes lit up with a mirth, like it were the best news he had heard all day. "You know what? I'm going to go grab that team roster! Maybe we can get you in on the team mid season!" The beta wolf went off with a pleased chuckle, looking for the team roster.

Stiles' cheeks were burning with anger. First Jonesy was on the prowl for Nikita, now he wanted to take Stiles' spot on the team? "Why lacrosse!?" He couldn't help but to snap, getting a sharp lift of eyebrows from Jonesy.

"Why can't you pick another sport? Go join ultimate frisbee, unicycling, the swim team, or something. Anything else." Stiles was so desperate to get away from Jonesy.

"I don't think we have any of those teams. Except for swim, but i'm not much of a swimmer." Jonesy admitted so freely.

It was like the angels had parted the clouds from above, he could hear the rosy cheeked plump little cherubs singing their heavenly songs. Jonesy. Who was good at virtually everything, wasn't actually good at everything.

"YOU CAN'T SWIM?" Stiles voice exceptionally loud, effectively garnering the attention of half the locker room. He wanted to humiliate Jonesy, and it was working as the wrestler grew more quiet.

"Water just isn't my thing." Jonesy muttered to himself, it was his turn to look ashamed, his glance falling to the dirty tiles.

"What person lives in California and doesn't know how to swim?" Stiles laying it on thick and chuckling to himself, enjoying this so much more than he could have ever imagined.

"Stiles!" Scott's voice cutting across the locker room rather sharply, he was short on patience.

He gave a pat on Jonesy's back. " Don't worry dude, it's cool. I'll go through my garage and see if I can find my floaties and kickboard for you."

Stiles went behind the rows of lockers to find Scott, who looked far from pleased. "Stop picking on Jonesy. We need to focus." His voice hushed and serious, so Stiles leaned in close in order for the both of them to run their plans.

"Allison swears there's a book in their family that documents every creature. A Beastiary. Maybe we can find more information on the Kanima, aside from what we know from Deaton's books." Scott's eyes scanning around the locker room, making sure no one, was listening. Isaac on the other hand was far too busy trying to recruit Jonesy to even notice.

"How do we get it?" Stiles hoping this book had the answers they needed in order to stop the bloodthirsty creature.

"We get it at tonight's game." The confidence in Scott's very own voice striking a spark of confidence within Stiles as well. They could do this, the two of them had accomplished the impossible before; finding a book would be cake. "Allison is going to borrow Gerard's jacket, it's where he keeps the keys to his office. She'll meet you at the end of the bleachers, as soon as he's distracted you go for it."

"How do we get a distraction? He's so damn vigilant." Stiles pointing out, Gerard was a bloodhound, a relentless dog with a bone; he would notice if something were amiss.

"I'm positive you'll think of something." Scott's hand clapping Stiles' shoulder. "You always do."

* * *

\- Nikita's POV-

"You're very beautiful, you know that?"

Nikita looked up from her styrofoam cup of hot cocoa to Melissa McCall. The two of them were in line for kettle corn, both of their breaths fogging into the cold night air. There was a buzz of excitement hanging thickly in the air, while Nikita wasn't sipping on that energy, it was undeniable. Tonight was a big game, Beacon Hills versus their rival, Devenford Prep. Originally it was going to be her, Walter, and Melissa here. Walter wanted the girls to bond together and watch Scott's lacrosse game. Nikita had dreaded this. She didn't hold any animosity towards Melissa, rather it was her son, Scott McCall. Scott being Stiles and Derek's celebrated and trusted confidante. However, Nikita held her tongue and pushed herself to smile. She could tell Melissa was anxious with that stiff smile of hers, and wanted her to feel at ease.

"Oh, thank you." Nikita's nails tapping against the styrofoam. Embarrassed at how terrible the islands of black varnish looked on her nails, while Melissa's weren't painted, they were at least clean and trimmed. "That's nice of you to say."

Lately Nikita was feeling far from pretty, often hiding her willowy frame beneath large bulky sweaters in hopes of no one noticing the weight she had dropped. She swore the toxicity around her was starting to seep into her skin, making it dull along with her hair. The bags under her eyes gave testament to many sleepless nights often afraid of waking up in the wild. Nonetheless she took the compliment, because it was the right thing to do.

With a shrug of her shoulders she gave Melissa another smile. Melissa rubbed her hands together to keep warm, Nikita kindly offering her warm drink for Scott's mother to hold.. She was really trying, Nikita just wasn't feeling very talkative, and they had no clue what to talk about.

"Your father keeps a lot of your childhood photos around in his office you know." The two of them taking a step forward in line, the sweet buttery scent growing stronger. Kettle corn didn't seem appetizing, nothing seemed appetizing these days unless it was Olivia's scrumptious red velvet cupcakes. Those were purely to die for.

Nikita could feel the heat of a rosy blush sweeping across her fair skin. She could recall those embarrassing photos of her childhood self with her mouth full of metal, frizzy hair and terribly untamed eyebrows. She was such an odd looking child, still blossoming out of her awkward phase.

"Along with photos of your mother. You look just like her." Melissa added.

Nikita's eyes lifted from from the dewey white grass to connect to Melissa's warm chocolate eyes. She could see the hesitance there, Melissa pulling her lips to the side to choose her words thoughtfully as if not to throw Nikita off. The subject of her mother was and always would be tender to Nikita, her death still so fresh. Nikita was shifting where she stood, anxious of where this conversation would flow, the two of them were so calm on the surface, one couldn't tell by looking how jitterish they actually felt.

" Nikita, I've been with your father for over three years." Melissa finally making it to the front of the line and handing a five dollar bill to the concession stand. "He makes me indescribably happy, he just fills my heart with so much joy."

She sure was glad Walter was at least making someone happy. Nikita wasn't sure what to say to this, was a congratulations in order?

"I love your father very much. But I also want you to be part of my life." She grabbed the triangular bag of kettle corn, moving to the side. "Which is why I want you to know that you can always come to me if you ever need someone to speak to, or if you just...you know, want to hang out?"

"Oh." Was all Nikita managed to say, deeply relieved Melissa was sparing her the 'i'm not trying to take your mother's place'' speech. She had liked Melissa ever since she first met her. She was funny, a bit dorky, and sweet, most importantly, she never made an attempt to be Nikita's mother figure, just simply her friend. Her reaction or lack thereof sent Melissa into a spiral of panic, and now she was starting to trip on her own words.

"Or we can go out and get our nails done, I can't paint them being a nurse and all, or we can go see a movie together, I don't remember the last time I -"

"-I would like that. I haven't been to a movie in a long time too." Here she was, trying her best to deliver the most non-threatening smile.

Melissa returned the smile and the two of them walked towards the bleachers together. "However, my friendship comes with a price." Nikita warning before taking a sip of her hot drink.

"And what would that be Ms. Grace?" Melissa humoring her.

"You have to tell me every gross hospital story you know."

"Oooo. You do drive a hard bargain. I can think of a few tales that will get you to squirm! Have I ever told you about the time your father had to reattach a penis?"

It would have been a riveting story, but Nikita was so distracted by her grip around her flimsy cup was tight, it could have exploded the hot contents on her. Releasing scalding liquid all over her hands. Maybe it was a good idea, it would certainly get her out of the awkward situation she was in. It wasn't Melissa's doing. It was the fact that she was at the lacrosse game in the first place. Jackson was here...somewhere. Her ex boyfriend who she had words with earlier. Stiles was here as well, her ex-something-whatever. There were too many people here she didn't want to see. Nikita had to suck it up, for this meant the world to Melissa McCall.

However it was the sight in the distance that had her strangling her cup of cocoa. Gerard and Allison approaching the field.

"I'm so glad we're finally spending some time together!" Melissa chirped as she gently squeezed Nikita's shoulder.

"Me too!" Nikita squeaked, playfully shaking Melissa's shoulders "Now let me find a cave to go hide in. Pronto." She thought to herself. Of all places, she had to be here.

Allison started to make her way up the bleachers. Normally Allison would be a welcomed sight, but not the Crypt Keeper hobbling behind her; Principal Argent. Nikita had taken an immediate disliking to him, he was always probing her with questions she never had the answers to, deeply intrusive questions. Questions especially regarding the night of Winter Formal. This time she actually remembered that night, remembered her fall and the beast so vividly. Only there was no one she could speak to about what had happened, for she would be heavily ostracized and mocked even more.

She watched Allison stop mid bleachers, her arms wrapping around her bare arms, it was such a cold night what was she thinking? Gerard slid his beige coat off and draped it over his grand daughter's shoulders, the only time she had seen the old prune be authentic. They had exchanged some words and Allison ran down the bleachers to retrieve something.

"Please don't come here. Fuck off. Fuck off. Fuck off." Nikita chanted in her head as she steadily watched Gerard. She had a hard time when it came to trusting the Argent family, they already had a shotty track record with Kate Argent's past. And Nikita's trust in Allison had began to diminish as they slowly began to drift apart.

Gerard climbed up to the row Nikita was sitting in. Of course, eyeing the empty spot next to her.

"Mind if I join you ladies?" He said with his thin lipped smile.

"Please no, please go strand yourself on an island and join the Natives of the land." Nikita groaned internally, if only she could say these things out loud. A smile appeared on her lips as she imagined Gerard on a stranded island, sun burnt and blistered , curled up and hugging a bloodied volleyball. If only these things could actually happen. Her imagination was so much better than real life.

"Of course." Melissa beamed with her always positive attitude, not understanding what a satanic bag of manure Gerard Argent actually was.

He flashed her one of those pained synthetic smiles like he was trying to smile while a catheter was being shoved up his pee-hole. She wanted to vomit on her shoes, her vivid imagination going a bit too far this time. Gerard pulled out a pill box from his back pocket, grabbing a large white one and swallowing it dryly. She flinched at the act, what sort of monster could dry swallow a pill? He put away the small tin and noticed her staring.

"Hello there, Nikita."

"Hey." Nikita mumbled into her cup as she took a sip. Making sure not to leave an opening for conversation. Which asshole was going to upset her tonight? The geriatric demon wearing a liver spotted meat suit? Jack-ass? Or would it be Stiles? The odds were slim of her coming out of tonight okay, what a terribly rigged game of Russian Roulette.

In attempt to distance herself from Gerard, Nikita inched closer to Melissa until they were shoulder to shoulder. This was the most affection Nikita had shown to Melissa, and Nikita was now feeling guilty that it was accidental. She could tell it made her happy, accepted even, now Melissa looked like she was on the verge of happy tears. It was a breakthrough for her. Nikita smiled, her cheeks were starting to hurt from the brittle cold and all the forced smiling going on. Not that she minded having someone as laid back and loving as Melissa in her life. She just only hoped that she would actually stay, even if that meant Scott had to stay as well.

Melissa linked arms with Nikita as the two of them kept their eyes on the field.

"Nikita, darling." Gerard began, and right away she knew he was going to ask her more intrusive questions. "How is your head, are you starting to remember things from _that_ night?"

She wanted to vanish right there, hating this conversation more than anything at the moment, that is until Melissa chimed in, immediately coming to Nikita's defense.

"I'm sorry, that's an incredibly personal question, don't you think?" Nikita liking this mama bear side to her. She jutted out her chin towards Gerard, waiting to hear what would spew between those yellowed teeth.

Gerard was far from perturbed, to him Melissa was a simple annoyance, a gnat he wanted to flick away. "Pardon me, are you the girl's mother?"

Ice ran through Nikita veins, and now she was actually starting to feel sick. Gerard had Nikita's file on hand, he knew damn well she no longer had a mother. The insult was thinly veiled behind false ignorance and cheap sincerity, and even Melissa was appalled.

"You're Scott McCall's mother, aren't you?" His incriminating tone made it sound like the worst thing one could be.

"Yes, I'm his mother." Melissa turning so that she was facing Gerard, Nikita caught right in the middle of this.

Then he had approached, her only hope for the night.

Nikita's eyes lit up as soon as she caught sight of Jonesy, surprised he would show up to a lacrosse game. He was sporting his red Letterman jacket and his grey beanie. As soon as he caught sight of Nikita next to their Principal he bolted up the bleachers, grabbing a random game-goer's drink, ripping off the lid, and plopping himself strategically between Nikita and Gerard. The contents of the iced coffee he had stolen seconds ago spilled over to land on their Principal's lap, causing Gerard to jump to his feet. A cold wet brown splotch now splayed across his crotch, and half of Jonesy's drink gone.

"Oh no!" Jonesy cried out with a clear exaggeration, subtlety wasn't really his thing, or he just lacked any real concern. "My McCafe iced caramel macchiato!"

"That's unfortunate." Melissa piped in, matching the false sincere tone Gerard had mastered.

Their Principal gave Jonesy a death glare, the glare itself equivalent of a thousand rusted nails piercing through tender skin. Gerard couldn't say much since it had looked like a complete accident, and he wouldn't dare yell at the captain of the wrestling he took his leave to clean himself off, heading to the boy's locker room. Perhaps he should have been thankful it wasn't Nikita's drink that had spilled on him. Her lips curved into small a smile, and she blew through the hole on her lid to cool her drink.

"I actually can't stand coffee." Jonesy snorting a laugh and sliding the stolen drink beneath his seat, licking the sticky liquid off his thumb. "Hi Mrs. McCall!"

Melissa greeting him back, everyone was always so delighted to see Jonesy.

"How will I ever repay you?" Nikita whispered to her friend, her grin pulling from ear to ear.

"I need to borrow your child sized hands." Jonesy referring to the time he had built his computer with his cell phone lodged inside. She had almost lost her hand that day trying to retrieve it.

"Uhm. No."

"Fine. Come to my show?"

"I wouldn't dream of missing Lugosi, c'mon now." Nikita was excited to see him play live and shred the stage.

The two of them went into conversation with Melissa about more gross stories, stories of amazing accomplishments completed by their fathers. The three of them so enthralled by the disgusting details and gore they hadn't noticed the lacrosse players filing out to the field. Nikita dared a glance.

unfortunately her eyes landed on Stiles...

He was already staring at her, like a deer caught in the headlights, preparing for an oncoming collision. Both of them looked away at the same time, embarrassed to have been caught staring at the other. Oh how her heartbeat thumped against her chest. Nikita could feel the heat of anxiety coursing through her, she didn't want him to feel like he had even an ounce of power over her. She knew it would be hard to avoid him here, and promised herself the next time she would lay eyes on him she would feel nothing. Nothing at all. But words were meaningless. She still had feelings for him, the sudden break up had given her little to no closure, or time to even process what had happened.

Although every part of her hated him, she still wondered what they could have been. Nikita looked back again, to see him still staring at her. A sad smile spread on Stiles' lips and he gave her an awkward half wave. His way of initiating some sort of peace treaty, a tarnished white ignored him, turning her attention to her chipped nail polish, as if that were more interesting. If he thought they would go back to being friends that easily then he truly was a moron. Nikita was not one to hold a grudge -except over Walter of course- but she wasn't one to be belittled in a tub and forget about it instantly. She would hold him over the flames, and watch him squirm instead...Only for a little while.

"That was harsh." Jonesy whispered.

"He deserves it." Nikita responded, she looked to him with a sharply arched brow to see the hesitance scrawled across his face, his boyish smile gone. "Are you saying I should be nicer when he dumped me?" Her tone coming out more harsh than she wanted.

Jonesy was playing with the zipper of his letterman now. "Cool it, spit fire. I'm just saying it's not hard to see that he has feelings for you, still. Feelings don't go away overnight."

"I don't care what he feels. I didn't deserve to be treated like that." Nikita looking to Jonesy, daring him to argue against her. She almost wanted him to. How her emotions were so unstable these days.

But he didn't. "Yeah, you're right. You deserve to be treated better. You also deserve to treat yourself better."

She had shot him an inquisitive stare, not understand where he was going with this.

Jonesy put one leg over the bleacher so he was facing her completely. " I don't like seeing you like this, Nikita. I know you want to shrink right now, and hide from the world. But don't hide your brilliance. I don't want you punishing yourself. I want you to have fun when you're meant to have fun, I want you to smile again. Don't let Stiles, Jackson, or any moron steal your smile. You think that because you were dumped you're supposed to be miserable, that feeling anything else isn't allowed; and that's not true."

An unexpected wave of emotions washed over Nikita, she could feel herself drowning in misery as Jonesy continued on. Little things gave her joy these days, she would have to seize those little moments as they came. She hated when he was right. The lump in her throat grew rather large as she looked to Stiles, who was in deep conversation with Scott. The way he had looked at her earlier... He still looked at her the way he used to look at her, with want and longing. Like how every girl would liked to be looked at. He had to be messing with her mind, throwing her out into the ocean, then reeling her in...Only to cut the line. She was a worm wrapped around his hook, and it was killing her, eating her alive. No matter how much she denied it, a part of her still wanted to be with him.

And now she was hating how weak and pathetic she was feeling, having fallen hard for a guy who she had only been on one date with. A lump was rising in her throat, and even though her eyes weren't on Jonesy, she could tell he was giving her a sorry look.

Nikita got up fast, almost knocking herself off balance "Uh, I'll be back, I need to...I need to...Bathroom."

"It's alright." Melissa mouthed.

Nikita ran down the bleachers, two benches at a time. The cold wind caught in her hair, blowing it back, nipping at her face. She had to get away from everyone, until she could regain her composure, before she broke down in front of an audience...Again.

She sped past the concession stands, the merch table, even the school mascot, the cyclone, getting down to Gasolina. Once in the parking lot Nikita sat in her mini cooper, leaning into her head rest and closing her eyes. Her car at the moment was her own private sanctuary where no one could interrupt her thoughts, give their two cents, or take any sort of pity on her. Nikita took a deep breath, exhaling calmly through her nostrils. She thought she could do this, she thought she was brave enough to show up tonight. How dare she get emotional over something as trivial as a boy? Nikita couldn't help but to scold herself mentally. She had never cared for these things before.

Her eyes fluttered open and that's when she saw him, clad in his stupid red hoodie, sprinting across the parking lot. He passed her car without even noticing her presence. Typical. Nikita sank in her seat just in case, curious olive eyes just peering over the window. Why would Stiles ditch the big game to run inside the school? That's when it hit her, everyone was distracted by the game; a perfect diversion for Stiles...To do whatever he was going to do.

This had to be it, this had to be what he was hiding from her.

Without hesitation, Nikita jumped out of her car, making sure to shut her door gently, so that no sound was made. This was her chance to finally uncover and expose the secret Scott, Stiles and possibly Derek had desperately tried to hide from her. Nikita bit her bottom lip and bent over to reinforce the tightness in her shoe laces.

There was no time for her to think on it, impulse had taken over.

It was now or never.

She broke into a run, her track-star legs pumped hard, and she expertly weaved through cars in the lot. Feet kicking up loose wet gravel behind her. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, through the blood flowing within her. Her boots pounded into the ashphalt, but little sound was made for she was light on her feet, not wanting to be seen or heard. The cold wind lashed against her face, nipping at her peach like skin;but Nikita kept her eyes on the door which Stiles entered through only seconds ago.

Her heart was thumping wildly against her chest like the wings of a hummingbird when she reached the blue double doors to the front of the school. This was it, all of her questions would finally be answered. A myriad of mysteries were waiting to be uncovered, a gold mine of information to satiate her ever curious mind. All she had to do was open the doors. There was no telling what she would find on the other side. The fear of not knowing what she would find made her hesitate, she would no longer be blinded by ignorance. What if she hated it? What if it was stupid and she was making a fuss out of nothing? Nikita stood there quietly amongst the threshold, her hands trembled right above the door handles. Now she was struck blindly with doubt. How was this happening now? She wanted this so bad. She had to know, for her own piece of mind. Her curious mind screaming at her to just do it! Nikita's fingers wrapped around the cold door handles, and with a sharp tug she opened the doors.

Thick bold brows pinched together in confusion as she looked at the sight before her. This wasn't what she had expected.

…

"Whoah whoah! Where are you going?" Matt Daehler stood before her, wearing an equally confused and horrified expression.

The hard look of determination on Nikita's face contorted to one of discontent and disappointment. Her fast shallow breathing began to diminish.

"Aren't you supposed to be watching the game?" He seemed to be struggling with holding onto an unnecessary amount cameras in his grips, a few swinging on his shoulders.

Nikita stood on her tiptoes, looking over his shoulders and tall frame, trying to get a glimpse of Stiles; but he was nowhere to be found, all the lights were out.

Matt noticed her lack of answer and peered over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse at whatever she was looking at. When he saw nothing, his attention turned back to her.

"...Are you okay?"

Her eyes landed back on him "Y-yeah. Did you happen to see anyone in there? ...Whatever you were doing in there..." Nikita making no efforts to conceal the suspicion in her voice. Was Matt part of this as well? Was everyone in on some secret she knew nothing of?

At first Matt was perplexed by her blunt question, but brushed it off like it were let out a chuckle as he pulled a camera strap over his shoulder." I was just gathering some camera equipment, I really wanted some professional shots of the game for the Yearbook. And no, no one is in here. Just me."

Nikita's finger hooked around the silver heart of her necklace, dragging it back and forth along its chain.

Jackson's voice from earlier rang in her head "Paranoid much?"

Matt was the definition of innocence in Nikita's eyes, he had little to no association with Scott and Stiles. Hell he was known for being socially awkward, he had no associations in general. The certainty in his voice had reassured her that he in fact hadn't seen anyone, but Nikita knew what she saw, she saw Stiles enter the school building. It wasn't a mistake, her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. No one could call her crazy for such a thing.

It was as though Matt had read her mind, he stepped to the side granting her access into the building, giving her permission to go inside and look for herself, holding no qualms over her. His simple action replenished her wavering trust in him. And now she felt bad for accusing him of something he had no part of in the first place. He didn't need to be roped in Nikita's paranoid ways.

She watched Matt walk down the steps, going on with his night like he had intended, but not before he turned around to face her.

"Hey, I know this is out of the blue...But Jonesy's show is coming up. His band, Lugosi, is the opening act."

Nikita swallowed thickly, she knew exactly where this conversation was going. As if she would brutally reject him like the girls in his past, Matt's face cringed the slightest, bracing for harsh impact.

"I was wondering if you were interested in going together?"

She took in a large breath, ready to let him down gently "I, I sort of got out of a relationship...Actually i'm not sure if it really was a relationship. I'm not really looking to go on dates or start anything romantic. Not for a long time." Nikita answered honestly.

It was the only answer she knew how to give. Nikita watched her words pierce Matt like an arrow. His head dropped low with a sigh. Her heart sank, it was like kicking puppy. But Nikita wasn't emotionally available for anyone.

"I-I know, I was thinking we could go as friends." He mumbled "You know, just two people who have a mutual love for garage bands and underage drinking. Unless you're not into drinking that's fine, in that case i'm not into drinking either. No romance involved, at all. Strictly platonic, so no funny business; Nikita." He finished with a playful grin and a wiggle of his eyebrows. He was more persistent than she imagined.

Nikita felt a regretful ache inside, preparing to let him down one last time. He was making it so difficult, and she didn't want to hurt him. "Sorry, Matt, I just don't think it's a good idea."

He flashed her a sad smile of longing, just before turning around to walk away. Graciously accepting defeat.

Nikita still stood outside the doors, her eyes glanced down the long dark winding hallway of the school, trying to figure out which way Stiles possibly went.

"I just thought you deserve one night to forget about everything, one night of being happy and carefree." Matt mumbled over his shoulder.

Nikita froze, his words sounding similar to Jonesy's. Maybe her friend was right, she had become obsessed with finding out what Stiles was hiding from her. So obsessed she forgot herself, and her own well being, which was all she had at the moment. And that itself was already hanging by a thread. Since when did Stiles become her number one priority? She should have been her own priority. Happiness above Stiles. Jonesy was right, Matt was right...She had to allow herself to feel joy and not wallow in her own self pity. Stiles didn't deserve an ounce of melancholy from her.

Her curious olive colored eyes looked down the hallway once more, but there was no sign of Stiles. Nikita squeezed her eyes shut and let out a deep sigh, as stubborn as she was; she knew she had to walk away from this. Maybe, just this once, she would let it go. Scott, Stiles, and Derek could try and keep secrets from her, try, but she would eventually find out; just not tonight.

"Matt! Wait up!" She shouted after him.

He turned around so fast that he dropped a few of his cameras. Matt knelt to the floor, cursing under his breath as he picked up the expensive equipment. Nikita knelt next to him, helping him pick up a few lenses; making sure none were cracked.

"You're right Matt, I need a night out." She said. "And I don't mind a few drinks."

"Wow, Niki, stop hitting on me, I said just friends!" Matt teased with a coy smile, getting her to smile too.

Nikita playfully slapped his arm "Promise me you won't drag me into a mosh pit."

Matt let out a chuckle "I promise you no such thing."

The two of them got up, she couldn't help but to glance over her shoulder, to the open door.

He put his arm around her shoulder, bringing her attention back to him."C'mon Niki, You can be my little camera buddy and help me take pictures, I'll even let you switch the lenses!" Matt said.

The corner of her lips tugged up "Sounds like fun."

* * *

Please leave me reviews and love. Let me know what you thought of this chapter, if there were parts you liked! feed back is my source of inspiration. Please and thank you! Also i'm curious to know what you guys think is going on!

If you've read this story before, try not to leave spoiler-ish reviews! Thank you.


	29. Chapter 29

Thank you to all of those who were kind enough to leave reviews. To my silent readers, I hope you guys can leave me some encouragement as well. Almost thirty chapters deep, and some motivation is what I need! My story is not in sync with the teen wolf timeline, so please don't worry, I sort of kind of know what i'm doing.

Loved writing this chapter, I think you guys will love it too.

* * *

The soft white had encompassed her vision in delight, so much so that Nikita didn't want to move, she wished to lay here just a little longer and ignore the annoying sound infiltrating her eardrums. When comfort had enveloped her, there was no leaving, not a chance. Nikita's pillow pressed hard against her face, perhaps this would get Danny to leave her alone, the two in the midst of their childlike tantrums. No such luck, he was jumping up and down on her bed, the weight of him threatening to break it, squawking her name like a cracked out parrot.

It was seven P.M and she was already in her pajamas, and it drove Danny insane.

"GET UP NIKITA! I AM NOT LETTING YOU STAY HOME ON A SATURDAY NIGHT! We're going dancing!"

He yanked the comforter off of her and immediately her body reacted to the cold, her legs pulling to her chest in order to keep warm. Danny grabbed at her ankles to drag her out of bed. Upon the feel of the spikey hair -five days post shave and still going strong- his hands recoiled like it had been touched by a flame. Danny had to think of a new game plan now if he wanted her to move. She let out a muffled evil cackle from beneath her pillow, thinking of her stubbly hair as her body's natural defense system. It did very little to deter Danny from his mission, for he was much more hairy than her. And he was back to yanking her out of bed.

"Noooooooo." She groaned out in protest, trying to grab her head board.

"We are not missing Fire and Ice night at Jungle Club, Nikita! It's better than Christmas, and don't you dare argue with me! It's better than Halloween!" Danny hadn't given up, even with Nikita being nothing short of a stubborn mule. And when she said no, she meant no.

Nikita wasn't trying to hide from the world tonight, she was just...casually avoiding it by the slightest. She had gone out last night to the Lacrosse game anyways, didn't that count for something? The idea of doing something social the next night sounded so damn exhausting. Yes she was trying to open herself up to happier outcomes and possibilities, trying to live her life and move on. But it had to be done at her own pace.

Sometimes a girl just wants to wallow in the comfort and safety of her bed, and binge watch dark gritty shows until Netflix asks her if she's alive or consumed into monotony, and perhaps die there; and maybe the pet cat she didn't own yet would eat her face. That was a thing cats did to their dead owners...right?

She finally removed the pillow and raised herself to her elbows, peering at her friend. He sat with his hand under his chin with sagged shoulders. "I was dumped by Evan a few days ago. So now i'm joining the scorned broken hearts club, population you, me, and Lydia."

Now he was tugging at her heartstrings, it was weird seeing him like this. In fact, she had never seen him like this. Danny was a solid friend who would never use guilt to get something out of Nikita, he must have actually been upset. Her fingers brushed through her messy wavy chestnut hair, trying to tame the frizziness as best she could. Resting on her desk was a bottle of red glitter, and an electric blue wig, fire or ice. Danny had asked her to pick one of the themes when he came in.

"I'll take the wig." Nikita finally chiming in to answer him, to this Danny turned around to give her a toothy grin.

"You'll also need this." Danny reached into the back pocket of his jeans to throw a card before Nikita.

She picked it up. It was a decently made fake ID, a little flimsy though. On it was a picture of a woman who hardly bore any resemblance to Nikita aside from the strong distinguishable eyebrows. Her name read Belinda Sue Gladwell and Nikita glowered at the sound of it, knowing all too well Danny had picked it out. She was 5'4 and twenty-three years old.

"You like it?" Danny cooing and laying his head into her lap. "I picked it out for you, and Matt came through with the photoshop skills."

Nikita was thoroughly impressed with the lengths Matt had gone through, even adding the holographic stamp to the card to make it look like a real ID.

Danny's smile grew into one a lit with excitement. "Can't wait to go clubbing with you, Belinda."

* * *

\- Stiles' pov-

" I was going to draw the line if I had to give him CPR. There's no way in hell I was going to have my lips touch Derek Hale's!" Stiles' angry words hardly carried over the sound of the wind beating against him from the open car window.

He could easily recall every detail of last night. The Kanima, Erica, Derek, the pool. Derek had almost lost his life drowning if it weren't for Stiles being there, holding him afloat.

Stiles drove with one hand on the steering wheel the other holding the back of Scott's T-shirt, making sure his best friend didn't tumble out the window. Scott was sniffing the night air, trying to pick up the Kanima's scent. It was only moments ago when Scott was sure he had picked it up, but the wind had shifted directions. Stiles wasn't sure what the Kanima could possibly smell like, the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to know. Neither had really discussed what they would do once they had found the Kanima, and information seemed so scarce, the two had dove into a bad idea.

The Beta looked back at Stiles, his eyes burning golden, searching for unattainable answers. They were both so close to grasping a hold of this mystery, but time and time again it kept slipping from the cracks of their fingers.

"So we know for a fact that the Kanima can't swim."

Stiles nodded his head, remembering how the creatures slapped the surface of the water in frustration. "It was scared of the water. And the way it looked at us, you saw it Scott, it's like it knew us…I think it could actually be someone we know."

There was a hint of recognition behind its cold slitted reptilian eyes, there was no denying it. It's own body hesitated, like the person inside was fighting back from doing any damage, from hurting people.

"I'm thinking of someone tall." Stiles carried on. "Like really tall. Maybe popular and loved by the student population?" Scott was either not getting where Stiles was going with this, or much too preoccupied with tracking down a scent.

"I don't know. Perhaps a certain wrestler who...you know...admitted that water isn't his thing?" Stiles coughed into his hand "hrmphJonesy!"

Scott seated himself back and shot a remorseful glance towards Stiles, upon the glance Stiles' fingers tightened over the steering wheel, a rabid twitch taking over his left eye. He could feel that one vein pulsating madly beneath the thin skin. "What? What is it? Why are you looking at me like Ryan Gills-ling died again?"

"Allison thinks it's Nikita." Scott was watching him with careful bright eyes, waiting for a 'Stiles like outlandish reaction.

But Stiles wasn't going to give it to him. No, he was going to be calm and mature about this, because he had broken up with Nikita in order to keep her out of this dreaded dangerous life he lived. There was no reason for him to panic over the fact that this assumption - that Nikita was a blood thirsty lizard- was undoing what he had just done - broken up with Nikita to keep her out of the Supernatural world; because this assumption alone pinned her straight to the clusterfuck filled board of Supernatural fuckery.

"WHAT!?" Stiles finally screamed out, the Jeep swerving side to side, nearly cutting off the car to the left of them. "Are you kidding me, Scott!? You think it's Niki!?"

"I didn't say I thought it was her, all I said was that Allison-"

"WHY!?" Stiles demanded. This had to be some sort of joke, Allison must have been going mad.

Scott took a moment to breathe, being put on the spot wasn't really his thing. "Remember Deaton's book? It said that the Kanima was a lonely creature looking for a friend."

"SO!?" Stiles garnering honks behind him every time he swerved out of anger.

"Look i'm just saying there's more probable reason Nikita is the Kanima. She did go missing for five night and no one knows where she went or what she did while she was gone. How does someone just vanish and fall off the grid? And during the game last night she vanished for some time. You really think Jonesy, the nicest person we've ever met, could be a killer?"

"Hmm I wonder if that's what that blonde girl running naked down the stairs thought of Patrick Bateman seconds before he killed her by dropping his chainsaw on her…Such a nice guy. Wow, what a stand up dude."

"Let's not compare him to American Psycho." Scott turning to face the window every once in a while in order to catch a scent.

"You know Christian Bale based that performance on Tom Cruise? Another supposed-" Stiles taking his hands off the wheel to make air quotes "nice guy. The same nice guy who had his girlfriend scrub toilets with a toothbrush and has a tooth in the middle of his face. A TOOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS FACE! So let's not dismiss Jonesy as a suspect because he seems like a nice guy."

Scott buried his face into his hands and let out a long groan, recalling every moment of the other night. It seemed to replay in his head even when he closed his eyes. " Fine, we keep Jonesy as a suspect."

Stiles nodding, agreeing. This had nothing and everything to do with his personal gripe against Jonesy. Something was not right with him. There was no evidence against Jonesy, other than he didn't like water. But Stiles would find something eventually, and when he did, he would be the one to exploit Jonesy for what he really was, a bloodthirsty monster.

The way it looked at its own reflection, I don't think it understands what it is or what it's doing..." Scott thinking out loud. "Maybe it's helpless, maybe we-"

The Beta shot in his seat, his head perked up as a peculiar and familiar scent he had been searching for hooked right into his senses.

"Take a right! TAKE A RIGHT!"

Both boys let out high pitched screams as Stiles made a sharp right, almost tilting the box shaped Jeep in the process. The car pulled up to the Jungle Club, a notorious gay club, and perhaps the only club in Beacon Hills. Stiles shot Scott a sheepish look.

"Something you wanna tell me? Ay Scotty boy?" Stiles giving his friend a nudge and a wink wink.

Scott didn't answer, his eyes -now back to their dark brown- scanned the crowd gathered by the entrance; desperately seeking for a clue amongst the people. The scent had lead them here, but there was no sign of a homicidal lizard or anyone being in distress. Far from it actually, there was merriment and and eclectic energy all around. Stiles watched a herd of grown men run across the parking lot in high heels wearing red metallic hot pants. Red and blue seemed to be the theme of the night, and they were both dressed rather plainly in their flannels...but it would have to do.

"Alright, well we're here. So let's just check it out."

Scott only nodded, caught in his hypervigilant ways. "We just need to figure out a way around the bouncers."

* * *

-Derek's POV-

He needed to get out of the damn subway car.

It was already cramped, smelled of a public bathroom, and his betas had turned it into some sort of club house for themselves. It was nice to be out, free of the cramped confines. While Derek didn't care for social interaction from strangers, he much preferred it over the hormonal crazed teenagers he had kept in his company lately.

Derek found himself at a bar in the center of the city. It looked like a nice gastropub from the outside. Not too decent on the inside, where cracked peanut shells littered the once white linoleum floors. It was a Saturday night, but this place was far from busy. But he liked it that way.

A few men were playing a game of pool in the back filling the room with their rowdy laughter, some huddled in the furthest booth to talk and share stories amongst themselves. Derek seated himself right at the bar, on one of the high wooden stools. The rusted bolts that held the seat together creaked beneath his weight. From the corner of his eye he spotted a patron who sat a few stools from him, the bartender shamelessly flirting with him. She was leaning over the bar, cleaning the same spot before the customer, the deep maroon lace of her bra sticking out from the low neckline she wore. The patron seemed to care very little for the desperate display, or perhaps this was his game in getting her to come undone, doing an impressively solid job at keeping his eyes on her rather than her body. She was acting dangerously coy with him now, chewing on her gum and twirling it around her finger. The unmistakable and sweet scent of arousal wafting off of her.

Derek cleared his throat to get the bartender's attention, he just wanted a damn lager, or some local beer. The patron and the Bartender started to make out as if Derek were just a ghost to them, not worth an ounce of their time. It felt like minutes had passed, Derek couldn't stare, it would be considered creepy, he already had a high track record for being labeled as creepy.

Hearing their wet sucking and kissing sounds was disgusting, and his patience was starting to wear thin. She had let out a few soft moans in the midst of kissing. Derek finally dared himself and snuck a quick look to see the Patron's hands roaming freely beneath her shirt. Derek turned around to glance over his shoulder at the other bar-goers, but none of them seemed to notice or care. Was he the only one seeing this? they were two seconds away from having sex on the bar top. She finally pulled away breathless, her chest rising and falling with excitement. It was then she seemed to have notice Derek's presence, startled to see him there.

"Oh gosh! You're so quiet!" She let out a stiff laugh, her hand pressed over her heart to steady it.

"Can I get you something to drink?" The Bartender asked while trying to fix her smeared lipstick with the edge of her thumb. Derek's eyes had gone to her chest to see she was now without a bra, and it must have been particularly cold in here. His eyes danced up back to hers, hoping she didn't notice his unwanted glare. Now wasn't the time to think on how long it had been since anyone had shared his bed; in all honesty he much preferred a real bed than female company.

"Give me whatever's on tap." Derek ordered, his voice dangerously monotone to let her know he wasn't impressed with her lack of professionalism. And his eyebrows danced up giving her a forced enthusiastic smile. "Surprise me."

She had caught Derek's curious gaze on her chest, garnering her to look down as well. It was now she had noticed that her bra -which she was showing off not too long ago- had gone missing.

The patron laughed, putting both his hands up in surrender, wiggling his fingers. Her maroon bra dangled freely off his right thumb like a proud flag. Derek... reluctantly impressed by the magic trick.

"Asshole!" She shrieked, grabbing her bra and slapping his arm, then she stormed off to the kitchen to adjust herself. Derek could have slammed his face down into the bar top out of frustration, it would take forever to get a damn drink now.

The Alpha finally gave in and fully glanced at the stranger sitting at the bar with him. He must have been around Derek's age, hair a peculiar shade between light brown and blonde, a shade rarely seen on people. Three perfect strands fell before his bright eyes, but the rest of his hair was neat. His cleanly shaven jaw sharpened and relaxed as he chewed on the gum that was in the bartender's mouth only minutes ago. It took Derek a minute, but he recognized who it was. It was that imbecile with the white Maserati from a while back at the gas station, the one who was trying to pry into his life. Derek didn't recognize him without the black leather jacket and sunglasses. Whoever he was, he had addressed Derek by his full name, knew him right away like he had known him all along. Yet Derek was in the dark when it came to this kid, who the hell was he, and why such high animosity towards him?

The Alpha was still staring unabashedly when the stranger turned fully to look at him, giving him a disdained up and down glare, like the mere presence of Derek insulted him. "Like what you see?" That gruff deep voice already getting beneath Derek's skin.

It was like the fog in his brain had cleared when Derek finally figured out who he was. And he let out a chuckle, so rambunctious it wiped the stupid grin off the patron's face. There was nothing more satisfying than watching that grin falter.

Derek couldn't believe who was in front of him.

"Alvin? You're that nerdy ass kid, Alvin, aren't you." His lips pulled tight into a smile, high cheeks causing his eyes to squint.

"It's actually Alex…" Alex shooting a scathed look akin to molten lava melting human flesh off the bones, Derek was starting to annoy him now.

"Whatever, Alvin." Derek chuckled. "Didn't recognize you without your polo shirts and rolling backpack."

"Chupame la pija" Alex muttered into his whiskey cup, but it was loud enough for Derek to hear. The Alpha only understood basic high school level Spanish, so he went on to ignore Alex anyways.

Derek went silent only to recall what Alex was like in high school. He wasn't this angry from what he recalled, Alex was shy and quiet, constantly kept to himself, and would spend lunches studying in the library. Sometimes Derek would watch from the outdoor basketball court as Alex and his nerd friends from Physics club would build weird little rockets on the school lawn. And while Alex was the captain of the wrestling team, an impressive feat no one would have expected of him, people didn't care for it as a sport; it was all about basketball.

His face once used to be round instead of the sharp slants he wore so well, for when Derek had last seen Alex, his youthful baby fat had yet to melt away. His hair used to be brighter, blonder, it must have darkened throughout the years. Alex was three years younger than Derek, he was known for being incredibly smart and skipping eighth grade. That was all Derek knew of Alex Jones, Alex was hardly a blip on his radar, Derek far too popular to care for the likes of him.

Derek absolutely hated every little thing about Alex Jones with every fiber of his being. From the way he walked, full of fake confidence and arrogance. The stupid smirk he constantly wore, like he knew a joke Derek had no part of. The stupid leather jacket he wore the last time they interacted? Leather jackets were his thing. The scrawny little science loner he remembered from high school finally figured how to use the thing between his legs and suddenly thought himself to be a man.

He would always be a loser to Derek.

"Ever make it to NASA, Alex?" It was Derek's turn to wear a sheepish grin. It didn't dare falter even when Alex turned to look to him, his facial expression mirroring that of Derek's.

"Ever make it to the NBA, Derek?

Derek's fingers curled tightly, every inch of him fighting back from wrapping them around Alex's throat and squeezing the air out of him. He could splinter Alex's bones like it were a toothpick, crack his nose over the countertop in a blink, rip that sharp tongue out with his claws.

The bartender came back, the mug of beer poured for Derek hit the countertop with enough force to slosh the golden liquid over, her dark eyes burning holes into Alex. She was mad about the bra trick from earlier, and it pleased Derek to know someone else here couldn't stand Alex. His lips met the creamy foam of his beer and Derek was relishing the bitter orange taste, his eyes carefully watching her as she went to turn on the T.V.

Detective Hirst appeared on screen for a press briefing. Derek had expected this much, with all the killings going on. Her face was such an unwelcome sight that his stomach soured just at the sight of it. She would be considered beautiful with her raven glossy hair, high high cheek bones, and freckled face. After what she had done to Nikita, Derek couldn't see her as nothing but a vulture, going after defenseless prey to tear them apart before the media, in hopes of public or even national recognition.

"Change the station." Derek demanded darkly, the bartender let out a mocking snort of a laugh and went to wait on the other tables.

Alex's right hand flapped too closely to Derek, in order to shut him up. " Stop 's fine as hell."

Derek rolled his eyes. "She's probably fifteen years older than you."

"Fuck, that's hot." Alex's eyes glued to the screen, drinking her in like she were an oasis in the middle of the Sahara.

Derek kept quiet as the names and faces of those who have been murdered recently -those who fell victim to the Kanima- appeared on the screen. They were all so random, Derek could never find a distinct connection between them all.

The second victim's face displayed onto the television screen while In the 'Arms of an Angel' played softly in the background. Alex let out a small tut, shaking his head while disagreeing with what he was seeing.

"That guy was a complete asshole. Can't say I didn't see this coming." He added. "If I die, tell Sarah Mclachlan to fuck off with her melodramatic music."

Derek sat up straight, Alex now bathing in the Alpha's shocked and apalled glance. He wouldn't know, his bright blue eyes still on the screen. With every victim they showed, Alex had some sort of sardonic comment to make.

" He's the one who got his winkie stuck in a jacuzzi jet." Alex raising his glass to the television screen as if to toast the death of the latest victim. "Guess there were worse reputations than carrying a rolling backpack, huh Derek?"

The insensitivity of Alex's demeanor was driving Derek up a wall. Worse of all, Alex clearly knew these people and now the Alpha was peeved that Alex knew something he did not, perhaps he was somehow related to these deaths...an immediate suspect.

"How do you know them all!?" Derek demanded, he was so put off by Alex he pushed his drink aside. He pointed to the T.V 'You knew every single one of the murder victims, I find that to be suspicious. Care to explain?"

Alex took a swig of his drink, then looked to Derek to study him, to see if he was being serious, and let out a small chuckle. The edge of the glass playfully rolling across his smiling lips. "Well uh, let's see here Derek. When one's cranium has been fused tighty within the breaches of the inter-gluteal cleft or the natal cleft it's hard to see the people that surround them, and therefore that person, in this case which is you, remains absolutely clueless about everything and anything. I suppose it's not really your fault." Alex going on with his musings.

"You've been spoon fed the idea that you are the most important person since you were a child, this false sense of superiority often leads to blind ignorance." Alex giving Derek another disgusted up and down stare, judging every inch of him.

Derek was losing his temper now. His hand shot forward to grab Alex by the neck of his shirt, the fabric bunching up in Derek's angry fist. "What the fuck are you saying?"

Alex remained unmoved, and now his venomous glare was locked onto Derek. The Alpha had never seen such a look before. Cold and dark, and at the same time it was like all of hell was burning wildly behind arctic blue eyes. Alex's energy had shifted to something silent, something calculating, something ready to inflict damage upon Derek, ready to break him. He wouldn't say he was intimidated, but it was enough for him to let go of Alex, the human couldn't even do any harm even if he had wished.

" Not being able to grasp the simplest terms can cause idiots like you to lash out. So let me break this down in the simplest way I know how. What i'm saying is, maybe if you didn't have your head up your ass all of highschool until now, you would have recognized them too." Alex carefully smoothing out any creases Derek may have created on his shirt.

Derek was a grubby worm hung up on Alex's hook, waiting for an answer, feeling the angry tremble in his hands slowly subside.

"They were on the swim team, moron."

The Alpha blinked wide. Alex had seamlessly just put together a missing piece Derek and even Stiles had been scrambling to solve for so long. Derek jumped to his feet, fishing out his wallet from his back pocket. Leaving a few crisp notes for his beer and even tip. He had to find Scott and Stiles, even though he thought of them to be nuisances they needed to know this piece of information so that it may lead them to the Kanima. And once Derek found the Kanima, he would end the miserable human's life.

Alex's attention returned to the television, his back towards Derk who had turned to walk away.

"One more thing, Hale." Alex's rough voice cutting through Derek's thoughts, he threw Derek another cold look, this time it was accompanied by a devil may care smile. It created a shudder inside of Derek. "Touch me one more time and I'll find a way to fit that ego filled head of yours up your ass. I'll make it look easy. And I'll look good doing it."

And while Derek's anger had swollen like a rising tide ready to lay waste to the shore, he kept it inside, for he swore Alex fed off his reactions. Alex's threats were hollow and pathetic, much like himself, Derek decided it would be a waste of time to provoke him any further. The Alpha left the bar, in search of Scott and Stiles.

* * *

\- Nikita's POV-

Nikita swallowed thickly as the bouncer looked at her fake I.D. With her disguise she was certain to get in. Her forced smile was starting to dissolve, the bouncer taking an unusually long time to glance over her I.D. Nikita had donned a bright electric blue wig that ran past her shoulders in wide waves. Tonight she had worn simple white crop top, sky blue waist high shorts that were much too short than what she was used to, but at least it showed off her runner's butt. Danny had picked a pink faux fur jacket for her to top it all off. While Nikita normally hated wearing heels, tonight she pulled a pair from the back of her closet, the biggest white Jeffrey Campbell platforms one could imagine. Danny, who had decided to go shirtless and paint his body with red glitter, had already passed the bouncer and was waiting for her, nervously wringing his fingers.

"You're good." The bouncer confirmed.

She would have smiled an accomplished grin, but it was risky, for her single dimple would have given her away. So she just grabbed her fake I.D and thanked the Bouncer. She would have to thank Matt and his magical photoshop skills later.

After giving her coat to the coat check her and Danny headed straight to the main room.

The two of them cut through a sea of people and walked across the foggy dance floor towards the bar, Nikita feeling the stickiness of alcohol beneath her shoes. Everything from the music, the people, to the energy was simply electric and Nikita was relishing in it already. The heavy bass and loud synth filled the club to vibrate the floorboards, The lights bounced across the room and danced across their bodies. Nikita would make sure they would end up dancing the night away, but first they needed some strong libations. Nikita leaned over the counter to grab the bartender's attention, waving her cash in the air. Finally garnering attention.

"Two Adios Motherfuckers, please."

Danny's eyes snapped wide with much delight as Nikita gave him a devious wink, she intended on having a great night and forget about any woes holding her down. She too deserved to be happy.

"You're kidding...Right?" Danny asked with an amused smile, trying to pick up his jaw, as Nikita handed him a bright blue drink, the drink itself the same color as her wig.

She patted his back with her free hand, tasting the concoction of bitter and sweet coating her tongue. "Drink up Danny, this is just the first of many."

"Cheers." Danny holding his drink up to the light. "To our exes and mascara."

Nikita took another sip through her straw, "and what do our exes and mascara have in common?"

"They run at the first sign of emotion."

She let out a laugh it was sad but terribly true. Danny went to sip his drink. The two of them decided that the orange slice on the rim of their cups was in the way of drinking, it wasn't optimizable. Nikita decided a straw wasn't necessary either, having to drink from a straw only slowed her mission to get completely plastered. The straw was left on the bartop and she drank straight from the cup, a few large gulps and she swore her senses were already starting to dull, her muscles starting to relax. A blue sticky sweet droplet escaped the corner of her mouth, to travel down the column of her neck and pool in the dip of her collarbone. Danny struggling to keep up with Nikita, his eyes traveling elsewhere above the rim of his glass.

Nikita had caught Danny's deeply forlorn glance, her eyes traveling to where he was looking to find that his ex was here, dancing much too closely with another man.

She felt for him, seeing someone you previously dated move on so quickly was disheartening, an absolute blow to anyone's self esteem. Nikita hooked her arm around Danny's neck, pulling him in close." Hey ignore him, alright?" Her voice louder than usual so that it carried over the music. "That hunk over there that looks like a buff Ryan Gosling has been eyeing you since we were in line, go dance with him."

Danny looked over to the young stud who couldn't seem to keep his coy smile from Danny.

That got Danny to smile as well, instantly lifting his mood " Okay! I'm gonna go dance with him, are you okay by yourself?" he yelled trying to talk over the music, it seemed to grow increasingly louder.

Nikita leaned in close to his ear so he could hear. " Yeah I'm going to finish this then go dance!"

The two giving each other nods before Danny departed to chat up the cutie at the end of the bar.

She rolled her head back, staring at the light speckled ceiling. this was what she needed, a night out with her friend, a night with such distractions she couldn't get lost in her own mind. Nikita had absolutely nothing to stress over or worry about in this exact moment. Her finger rubbed the back of her wig, it was a little scratchy. But Danny seemed to love the blue wig on her, claiming she looked like the Anime girl of his dreams, so she kept it on.

Nikita leaned back on the bar and took a long sip of her drink. The bitter alcohol loomed on the tip of her tongue as it burned its way down to the pit of her belly. Already she was starting to feel fuzzy and warm, the concoction of vodka, tequila, and gin starting to kick in. Her stomach let out the most obnoxious grumble, begging to be fed. Although she had eaten three meals today, it seemed that she needed more. An ever-insatiable creature lived in the pit of her belly, needy, angry, trying to claw out so that it may devour everything in sight.

"Shoosh, you!" Nikita pointed to her stomach, as if it would silence the beast.

That's when something caught her eye, from across the dance floor she could see Stiles and Scott approaching her.

"Damnit, I just wanted one night." Nikita hissed to herself. immediately at the sight of dumb and dumber she tilted her cup and began chugging the ice blended drink. regrettably giving herself a brain freeze.

The boys approached the bar while she was helpless in the midst of her painful brain freeze. Nikita pulled faces while they stood either side of her.

" Two beers!" Stiles ordered from the bartender, with a confidence that shot for the stars. Nikita stood frozen between them, she was facing the dance floor while they were facing the bar. Her eyes darted between the two, it seemed that the blue wig on her head was doing wonders with disguising her tonight, as neither boy recognized her.

The bartender leaned over the counter, and Nikita heard him say "no wristbands no drinks!"

Stiles turned around and looked over to her, still unaware of who was actually standing next to him. " Come here often?" He joked. She tilted the cup back, but there was nothing more to drink now.

She shot him a fake smile, although it pained her like a hemorrhoid, her single dimple emerging giving away her identity easily. That's when Stiles' mouth dropped open, he looked her up and down, astonished and surprised with what he saw.

"N-Nik?"

Nikita didn't respond, instead she walked away from him, to immerse herself on the dance floor and pretend his stupid mole speckled face didn't almost ruin her night. He could watch her walk away in her short shorts.

* * *

She had promised Danny that they were here to dance the night away and have fun, that was exactly what she was going to do. Never mind the fact that Danny had left her to dance with some Ryan Gosling look alike, or the fact that both Scott and Stiles were here. She was going to dance like nobody was watching, especially Stiles who had his eyes glued on her all the way from the bar. Stiles broke her heart, and Nikita was going to pretend it didn't still hurt. Make it seem like he had meant nothing to her.

Stiles could stand and stare all he wanted. She was aware he was watching her, Nikita lost herself in the crowd of sweaty bodies moving to the music and closed her eyes. She threw back her head, tossing her vibrant hair, allowing the beat, the rhythm of the music consume her until everything else ceased to exist. Nikita had allowed herself to sink so completely into the music that she didn't immediately notice the group of extravagantly dressed drag queens approaching. They surrounded her, right there on the dance floor. Untouched by the crowd like they were surrounded in a magnetic forcefield. One, a woman with a bright red wig beneath a purple turban lay a soft hand on Nikita's arm to draw the younger girl's attention.

"Sweetie we've been watching you, now let us ladies know, is that puppy over there taken?" Her head cocked over to the side, where Stiles stood at the bar.

He quickly turned around, pretending he hadn't been caught staring...Again. Nikita couldn't help but to roll her eyes at his weak attempt of playing nonchalant.

"He's all yours." Nikita winked at the drag queen and turned so she could get back to dancing.

That sent the gaggle of hens into a frenzy of giggles.

The one with red hair put her hand on Nikita's shoulder, forcing her to stop dancing "He's an ex isn't he? Don't play coy little darling, are you trying to make him jealous?"

Nikita shrugged her shoulders. "I don't care." Was all she said. She didn't care if she hurt him, she didn't care for what he felt. She was just enjoying the buzz that warmed every inch of her.

" Honey, you're not doing it right." One with golden curls piped in.

That's when a petite and adorable girl her age approached Nikita, a girl she had never seen before. She was in a blue tutu, a white sequin bikini top. Her dark bedroom eyes lined in metallic blue liner and the apples of her cheeks were adorned in silver glitter. The structure of her face was narrow and slender, modelesque. Her jet hair streaked with pink pulled in two double buns, and hot pink shimmery lip gloss that made her lips pop.

This is Star, she'll show you how it's done." The one in the red wig announced proudly.

Nikita, while usually social, really preferred to keep to herself tonight. As a polite gesture she extended her hand out, for a shake. She was expecting Star to shake it back, and that would be that. What she wasn't expecting was for Star to pull her hand forcing Nikita's body to collide with hers, and kiss her.

Her eyes widened as her lips pressed with Star's. Her lips had that plasticy taste of shimmery gloss. Star traced the bottom of Nikita's lips with her tongue, right before pushing her way into Nikita's mouth. Thats was when their tongues touched, and Nikita could taste something akin to artificial grape flavoring blossoming rapidly across her taste buds. She stumbled backwards, in complete shock. She had just kissed a girl, Nikita hadn't meant to take these mind games with Stiles so far. She was having fun, but this...This crossed the line. She wouldn't purposely kiss someone in front of him. With the back of her hand Nikita wiped her mouth, smearing her lipstick along with the remnants of Star's hot pink lip gloss.

The group of drag queens and Star burst into laughter. Nikita looked as freaked out as a cat trying to escape a bath.

"Oh yes, he's going to be itching to get his hands on you tonight!" One of them laughed out loud.

"More like he'll be growing hair on his palms tonight!" The other cackled.

Stars gloved hand came to cup the side of Nikita's face tenderly, then her thumb came to fix Nikita's lipstick. "Don't worry baby girl. Once the effects kick in, you'll forget all about him."

Nikita was in shock. Not because she had just kissed another girl, but because there was an unknown substance dissolving on the tip of her tongue.

* * *

-Stiles' POV-

Stiles and Scott looked at each other in shock as Nikita walked away from the bar and disappeared into the thick crowd, neither of them had recognized her, and all it took was a silly cheap wig.

"So much for keeping her away from the supernatural." Stiles grumbled.

"Stiles, we just need to focus on the Kanima." Scott shouted over the loud music "Don't lose focus, alright?"

Stiles nodded.

The Beta's eyes flashed molten gold. He scanned the dance floor with a predatory patience, knowing his prey was somewhere within in the vicinity, or perhaps even in the crowd. Scott tilted his head slightly upwards and shut his eyes, trying to file through the various types of scents clashing and mingling within in the club. Stiles was certain his friend could smell the bitter and fruity drinks, cheap colognes and perfumes, lust, arousal, anxiety, everything melded into one. It was so much, the team of smells overpowering. Scott opened his eyes, knocked off his concentration from it all.

"I'm going to patrol the dance floor." Scott shouted once more before disappearing as well, leaving Stiles alone at the bar.

"Yeah that's fine, i'll just hang out with-" Stiles looked to his far right to see an older man dressed as a devil eyeing him, checking him out.

Stiles swallowed thickly, extremely uncomfortable but somehow kind of flattered. He was getting attention. He didn't swing that way, but still . . . at least someone thought he was hot. Blushing, Stiles turned his attention to the dance floor. He could only just see Nikita who was lost between the crowd, but those glimpses he caught between the bodies held his attention. Enchanted by her, he watched her dance. She was a Goddess who always demanded attention without trying. Her body glistened with sweat, little beads of moisture that sparkled beneath the pulsating colored lights. Blue hair whipping side to side, while strands of it stuck to the sides of her face and neck. Her luscious strawberry painted lips parted. The sway of her hips to the music, the slender curve of her back, her plump behind in those form fitting shorts...every inch of her so perfect. He wanted to touch her, hold her, feel her. He wanted to feel the warmth of her skin against his own, bury himself in the sweet scent of her jasmine perfume.

Only he couldn't.

He couldn't touch her, or hold her. She wasn't his. Not anymore. He'd given her up to protect her.

His forehead creased as a small group of drag queens approached Nikita. Stiles watched closely. They exchanged a few short words and looked directly at Stiles. Yet again, he was caught staring.

immediately he turned to face the bar. "Damnit." Stiles muttered to himself, he never knew how to play cool in front of Nikita.

He had to collect himself, focus on anything but her, focus on the task at hand. As soon as he thought the coast was clear, he turned around.

His jaw hit the floor as he saw Nikita's lips locked onto another girls. Stiles couldn't believe his eyes, never had he been so turned on. This was plucked from his fantasies, and the fact that it was a girl he was already attracted to made it that much better. He caught himself, halted his thoughts, embarrassed for being so turned on, his testosterone punching through the roof. Stiles had to bite down on his fist to calm himself down, but it was too late. He looked down to see a bulge forming in his pants.

"No! No! Not here!" Stiles yelped.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to face the bartender.

"Specially made for you." A different bartender cocked his head towards Stiles' crotch " Devil boy wanted me to give you this."

He passed Stiles a red fruity drink, Stiles leaned over the counter to see the man dressed as a devil wave a shy hello.

Immediately his cheeks went red. Stiles bolted, running out of the Jungle Club and out the back door to get fresh air. He needed to calm his raging teenage hormones.

After fifteen minutes of gross thoughts to kill his boner, like a naked Coach Finnstock doing jumping jacks, Stiles was fine. He placed his hands on his knees and doubled over, taking in a deep breath. That's when he saw it, on the edge of the step leading to the back door.

Clear thick liquid formed in a puddle. He had seen the substance before, dripping off the tip of the Kanima's claws...Scott was right, it was in the building.

"Nikita." Stiles whispered.

He hurried back into the club, he had to get her to safety, even if she wasn't being targeted. Stiles found Nikita exactly where he saw her last, although her moves had become more mechanical and clumsy. Something was off with her, as she stumbled around side to side.

Stiles pushed past sweaty bodies to get to her. Finally when he approached her, he realized she wasn't sober.

"Whoah, slow your roll, Niki."

She didn't respond as she kept on dancing and enjoying the music, perhaps she hadn't heard him.

He was officially worried, she didn't try to distance herself from him like he had expected her to.

"Are you okay?"

His hands cupped her face as he examined her. He looked into her olive green eyes, to see that her pupils were widely dilated. She shut her eyes and turned her cheeks deeper into Stiles' hand.

"You're not okay." Stiles assessed aloud.

"You're an idiot." Were the only coherent words that stumbled from her lipstick smeared mouth.

She wasn't drunk, she was having a bad trip, she had gotten her hands onto synthetic drugs. He had to get her water fast, she looked like she was about to hurl on the dance floor. He looked to the bar which seemed so far from them, the thick crowd acting as a barrier.

"I want you to stay here, Okay? I'll get you water."

She nodded. Stiles felt bad for leaving her behind, but he knew he could reach the bar faster without her straggling behind him. Stiles pushed past the sea of people, the crowd seemed to get thicker the closer he got to the bar. Stiles finally reached the bar and caught the bartender's attention.

"NO WRISTBANDS NO BEER!" The same bartender from earlier barking at him.

Stiles could feel his cheeks reddening with frustration. "Yeah, can I get water please?"

* * *

Nikita's POV

The music flowed within her veins, like thousands of sparkling electric currents carrying raw euphoria. A part of her recognized she was high, but it felt too good to matter or care. The heavy bass shook the floor beneath her feet, rattling the bones in her body, she could feel every treble, every pitch, every note of the song, she was so super sensitive to touch and feel. It all felt so damn amazing. She was caught in a sonic ripple with her at the center. Little rays of green light boucned off the disco ball, shooting rays of light all over her body. She swore it tickled at her skin.

Whatever Star had slipped her felt like pure magic. However, the magic seemed to fade as soon as he carefully approached her on the dance floor.

"Whoah, slow your roll, Niki."

She could hardly hear him over the sound of the loud music, even the sound of her grumbling stomach was louder than him.

Nikita wanted to tell Stiles to leave her alone, to get lost. But her tongue felt so heavy, so lazy, so incredibly dry.

A worried look painted itself across his face. "Are you okay?"

His hands cupped her face as he examined her eyes. She couldn't help but to stare back, look deep into the warm chocolate pools, speckled with gold. His touch was so warm and comforting, instinctively Nikita turned her cheek deeper into his hand and closed her eyes to enjoy the simple pleasure.

"You're not okay..." Stiles observed out loud.

She had only let him know he was an idiot. As soon as the words left her mouth a stabbing hunger pain caused her to cringe. She could see the worry in Stiles' face now, as his brows knitted together.

"I want you to stay here, okay? I'll get you water."

Nikita nodded with understanding, licking a layer of sweat off the top of her lips. Water was exactly what she needed at the moment as the room began to spin. She watched Stiles disappear into the thick crowd, towards the bar. Her head felt so light, like a balloon. Everything in her body started to feel numb, starting with the tips of her fingers. Nikita couldn't wait for Stiles to return, she needed water fast. Like a newborn deer on ice she stumbled through the crowd, bumping against dancing bodies. Slowly her vision began to tunnel, Nikita needed to find the bathroom fast.

The long corridor leading to the bathroom looked endless, something out of a labyrinth. She held onto the side of the cold walls, using it to guide her to the end of the hall. Finally she had found herself hunched over a white porcelain sink basin, finger gripped tight over the edge of the sink. The tap was running with cold water, which she had forced herself to drink.

The rust filled taste of the water seemed to grow stronger and stronger the more she drank. Nikita squeezed her eyes allowing the cold water to run down her throat. Her stomach was in knots, growling, her tongue feeling heavy. She pulled from the faucet, but kept her head bowed down in attempt to regulate her breathing That's when she saw two unmistakable drops of blood land onto the porcelain. The red dots rolled down the white to blossom into the water, diluting in color and swirling down the drain, more blood joining the rest. The overwhelming taste of warm copper filled her mouth. Nikita spat the crimson out, splattering it against the white sink.

Quickly she lifted her head to look into the mirror, her eyes growing wide upon the sight of her horrendous reflection. Her mouth covered thickly in blood, it dribbled freely, and rolled down in a long chain of saliva off her chin.

Nikita let out a cry, disturbed by what she saw. In her fit of fear she had stumbled away from the mirror in her large platform heels and had lost all balance. The frightened girl fell backwards on the bathroom floor to land on her butt, the back of her head hit the stall door to slam it open. Inside were two girls, one with her hand underneath the other girl's skirt, and her other hand around the moaning girl's mouth. Nikita's own mouth remained open, her horrification met mortification upon seeing the fornication.

"What the fuck!" One of them shouted before closing the door.

A few girls walked into the bathroom to fix their hair and makeup in the mirror, they had treated Nikita like she was a drunk mess who needed to be avoided. Could they not see her? Could they not see all the blood that marred her face and sullied her clothes?

"I'm bleeding!" Nikita cried out in dismay from where she sat, on the cold tiled floor.

One girl, with brassy short hair turned around and fished her hand deep in her purse. "Bitch, me too." She held a tampon for Nikita to take.

Nikita wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, expecting to see the skin there smeared with blood. But there was nothing, except for the satin stain of her lipstick, her makeup must have been especially messed up now. She began to crawl towards the sink on hands and knees, the girls watched, groaning with disgust at how unsanitary this all was. She didn't care, she had to look into the mirror again. One of them was kind enough to help her to her feet, even dusting the back of her shirt for her.

She peered deeply into the mirror, other than her messed up lipstick, things were seamlessly fine. Not a drop of blood within sight. Was it her lipstick that had given her such a fright? The same girl who had helped her up had pulled her aside from the mirror now, examining Nikita's face. She looked deeply concerned, finally someone showing a reaction.

"Oh honey. Everyone knows you don't look into a mirror when you're tripping balls."

Nikita didn't respond, instead her stomach did yet another unwanted long growl. The apples of her cheeks tinged with a rosy blush, her arms coming to wrap around her stomach.

* * *

Stiles' POV

He looked over his shoulder to see Nikita had vanished. Stiles grabbed the water and hastily pushed through the crowd once more, there was absolutely no sign of her. That's when Scott bumped into him.

"Dude! It's here!" Stiles shouted while running his fingers through his hair with his free hand.

"I know." Scott growled " I found Danny, but we seem to have another guest."

Stiles peered across the dance floor, his vision skewed by the dense fog and the disco lights. Two blood red eyes stared right back at him, Derek stood in the shadows.

"What's he doing here!?" Stiles yelled, frantically throwing his arms in the air "He's going to mess everything up."

"We need to make sure absolutely no one gets hurt, including the Kanima." Scott ordered, sounding like a natural leader.

But it was too late as Scott's eyes gazed to the ceiling. Out of the corridor leading to the bathroom the Kanima appeared, it stealthily moved across the ceiling, then dropped itself into the crowd. Stiles' eyes grew wide in horror as screams filled the air, bodies hit the ground one by one like dominoes. He dropped the cup of water to his feet. Stiles barely had time to process what was happening, in a blink of an eye he was outside the club as frantic people ran outside screaming.

The last thing he saw was Derek fighting the Kanima, only for the creature to scurry back to the corridor and Derek was shoved with the rest of the crowd outside, caught in the thick of panic.

Scott, Stiles, and Derek stood outside dumbfounded at how the situation got so out of hand.

"We had this!" Scott snapped at Derek.

" Did you really?" Derek challenged "Because all I saw was you walking in circles, and this one trying to conceal his wood."

Scott shot Stiles a confused look.

"I don't want to talk about it." Stiles dead panned.

It took only moments for the paramedics to show up. They caught sight of Danny being wheeled out on a stretcher, a few more followed behind him.

"Danny!"

The three of them turned their heads to see Nikita run out of the club, the very last person to exit.

Stiles looked to see Derek's reaction, but he was gone as soon as he caught sight of Nikita.

She stood by Danny's side, her hand in his.

"Danny! What happened? What's going on?"

She was starting to panic, trying to process everything even though her brain probably felt like oatmeal. Scott and Stiles joined her side, to check up on Danny as well. Scott's brow's knitted together in a frown as he sniffed the air, this time he leaned closer to Nikita as he took in her scent. Stiles taking immediate notice, shooting Scott a cutting glare

Danny let out a chuckle "I'm fine, I exchanged numbers with that guy, so we're good." He held up a shaky thumb and Nikita let out a small laugh as well.

Stiles noticed her skin was covered in goosebumps, her body trembling, she must have been freezing. He peeled off his red hoodie and draped it over Nikita's shoulders. She shot him a 'get away from me' glare that got Stiles to take a step back, yanked her wig off, and followed Danny into the back of the ambulance, still wearing his hoodie.

His head rolled back, hands coming to shield his face. Tonight had been a mess, a complete failure, and so many people had been put at risk. Stiles let out a groan, his mind scrambling to think of solutions, yet nothing seemed to connect.

He noticed his best friend had been rather quiet. The Beta was frowning at the ground, studying the pebbles on the asphalt, as if he too were searching for answers. Stiles had seen the look many times before and knew what it meant.

Stiles nudged his best friends' ribs with his elbow, capturing his attention. "What is it? I saw you sniffing Niki."

"Nothing. She still smells human." Scott crossing his arms and mumbling, his eyes on the herds of people still reeling from the catastrophe.

"Why did you sniff her in the first place?" Stiles hated that Scott was suspicious of Nikita, but this conversation needed to be had so he could put a lid on Scott's nonsensical thoughts and accusations.

At first Scott hesitated, knowing Stiles wouldn't like what he was going to say. "I saw Nikita go down the hall to where I assume was the bathroom. Then a moment later I saw a Kanima come out of that same hall…."

"Dude!" He was already tired of having to defend her so constantly.

"I'm just putting it out there, Stiles, i'm not pointing fingers." Scott shuffling uncomfortably where he stood. "Anyways, Allison texted me. The translation of the Kanima was different in the Beastiary. It says the Kanima is seeking a master, not a friend."

Stiles threw his hands in surrender, it felt like they were only going in circles here. "Great, that's just great, and leads us to nothing."

Both Scott and Stiles peered to the top of the club roof at the same time, Derek perching off the edge like a gargoyle. Masked in the shadows like always, only two sparks of red indicating his eyes. Neither of them said anything, but they knew Derek had heard all of it, everything; there was no telling what he would do with this information. Especially the information about Nikita.

Stiles wanted to tell himself Derek wouldn't act upon this. He wouldn't think of touching a hair on Nikita's head. But that was what they had assumed with Peter. Stiles would not fall for past loyalties once more. For even if Derek were different than Peter, he was still a Hale. And a Hale had no qualms with severing ties in order to get a job done.

* * *

Please leave me some love, a bitch could really use some love tonight.

Can't wait for the next chapter, it's going to get even trickier.


	30. Chapter 30

Hello everyone, I decided to update on my birthday as a special treat to myself! This is a pretty packed chapter so I hope you guys enjoy it!

HUGE THANK YOU: To all of those who have left me reviews, your reviews are so so important to me, and give me a reason to keep going. Thank you guys so much!

\- Anything in italics is a flash back, so if you see italics in the middle of a non italicized POV it means it's an event from the past.

* * *

"You said you were going to train us!" Erica was right on Derek's flank as he entered the warehouse. "How is this going to prepare us to defend ourselves or fight? There's a manslaughtering lizard out there!" Her hands curling to fists beside her to contain her furious energy.

Derek remained quite, lost within the entanglements of his own thoughts. No one could tell there were weights that rested on top of his heart, or the fact that it felt like a bowling ball sat inside his stomach. His anxieties wearing his patience thin, and Erica was really starting to test him. He would find out if his number one suspect was the Kanima, surely this would dismiss any speculations towards Nikita.

"Everything we've done has revolved around Nikita!" Erica throwing her hands in the air with frustration. "You promised me so much more but instead I've been her search dog this entire time."

"Is that why you hate her?" Derek speaking over his shoulder, making his way to the double doors.

"I don't hate her!I hate that my life has suddenly become all about her!" His Beta quick on the defensive, almost offended by the question itself. "You place more value on Nikita than the three of us! We're your pack! Not her!"

Derek stopped in his tracks to turn to his out of line Beta. Of all his Betas, Erica was the most outspoken and difficult to deal with. Her spike in confidence was something Derek found pride in. It was amazing seeing her turn from a meek little girl who let everyone step all over her to a powerful self-assured young woman. Erica was feeling insecure, and perhaps that was Derek's fault. She felt side-lined for Nikita, but didn't seem to understand that Nikita needed help at the moment. And while Derek had slowly severed his ties with the doe-eyed girl, he couldn't allow her to wash away in the sea without throwing out a life line. He may have been far from Nikita's life, but she would always remain a priority for him.

He needed Erica to understand and comply. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, the tension of her muscles melting beneath her Alpha's touch. Trust.

"I am not putting you guys on the back burner for Nikita, I place equal value onto each and every one of you. And I'm not going to let anyone hurt you guys." Derek assuring her and easing her concerns. He understood that while his Betas were strong and secure on the food chain, they were starting to worry with all the killings going on around town. The sooner he figured out the Kanima, the sooner he could snip this in the bud.

Erica shook her head full of blonde ringlets, disappointment swirling in her amber eyes. While she trusted his words, it wasn't good enough for her. "This isn't what I signed up for…"

Derek let out a puff of air, turning around and pulling the heavy double doors open. "Then watch, maybe you'll learn something."

The two of them walked into the belly of the warehouse where Boyd and Isaac had dropped off the item of Derek's request.

Jackson lay on his side, with his hands tied behind his back and a burlap sack over his head. He squirmed and yelled out for help, there was no one around for miles, and his struggles would only tire him out. Erica was smiling at Derek now, elation lighting up her youthful face. She seemed to enjoy this situation very much. Truth be told everyone in this room was taking some sort of pleasure in Jackson's displeasure.

"I WILL SUE EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM!" Jackson cried out, only piping down when Derek removed the sack that covered his head.

For once Jackson held his tongue the entire time, watching with wide eyes as Derek carefully cross the room and slide on a pair of black latex gloves, giving them a sharp snap at the wrists. He then picked up a shard of glass, the clear venom had collected on the sharp tip.

"Wh-What are you doing!?" Jackson let out a yelp when Isaac and Boyd harshly pulled him up on his knees.

Derek slowly approached him, how the disenchanted jock was shaking with fear and fury, the Alpha couldn't help but to smirk. A string of venom began to trickle off the glass. The Alpha's eyes burned a deep red, he tilted his head side to side to crack his neck.

"What I should have done in the first place."

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

Her eyes opened to familiar surroundings, this time it was her own room and not the woods.

Nikita sat up slowly to see her father sitting on the end of her bed, her bleary eyes adjusting to the sharp daylight. A dull headache starting to form at her temples. She was silent, watching his hunched and weary figure. Walter was staring at his palms, his lips moving, but Nikita couldn't hear the silent words that tumbled from between them. Unbeknownst to her, he was practicing how he was going to discipline his daughter.

Last night was a dreaded haze, she could only remember bits and pieces of it drowned in blackness, and it frightened her. She knew she was drugged, and it made her skin crawl. Nikita remembered the mirror most of all, what she had seen, or rather what she had thought to have seen.

"I can't believe my own daughter stumbled into my hospital rolling her ass on...god knows what kind of drugs you took."

She hadn't heard Walter's fatherly disappointed voice in years, the anger of it was something new. It was warranted...and strangely wanted. He had let her get away with so much anti-authority behavior that even she knew it was wrong. Nikita was craving discipline like the body craves for the warmth of sunshine in its bones. He must have cared, he must have been so worried for her that it angered him. Sure Walter had stayed beside her hospital bed the days she had spent recovering, and he had grown more protective of her since the night of Winter Formal, there had been improvements.

Nikita's mouth opened, she wanted to tell him that it truly wasn't her fault. She wanted to tell him about the other Nikita who stared back at her with a bloody smile, the creature that had chased her off the edge of the , these days, people seem to have a hard time with believing her. She didn't want Walter to be on the opposing side as well, there was already a wall between them; and she had so little people standing in her corner.

And while she only called him by his first name...he was still her father.

Walter turned to face her, his eyes looking sunken in with lack of sleep. "I got you something, something that will keep you busy from now on."

Nikita sat up straight, a sleepy wide smile formed on her lips at the idea of the gift he got her. "Is it a cat?"

She had wanted a kitten for so long, it would be a perfect way to keep her company in this empty and depressing home.

"Close, but no cigar."

He shook his head at her excitement, even smiling, when this was supposed to be her punishment. Walter passed her a paper for her to read, Nikita's brow furrowing upon inspection. It was a job application at the local veterinary office.

"This will teach you some responsibility and keep you out of trouble. Fill this out and turn it in sometime this week. Dr. Deaton is a friend of mine, and he's expecting you."

Nikita rolled her eyes thinking of how she would spend her day cleaning dirty cages. Worst of all, it would have to be beside Scott McCall, who she could hardly stand being around. She looked to Walter, it seemed he wasn't backing down from this. The creases of his forehead deepening with his frown to show her he was being serious. A small part of her liked the idea of having a job, it would be a good distraction for her, and she wouldn't have to spend so many hours alone at home.

"Alright...well. That's that, I guess." He planted a kiss on her forehead, still heavy with makeup, oils, and sweat from the night before. "I grabbed your favorite cupcakes from Olivia's bakery, they're all for you. So please make sure you eat and drink plenty of water."

He placed his hands on his knees to get up, giving Nikita another one of his smiles. A sense of pride was shining through him and Nikita could feel herself basking in the warm light of it. Where she had expected to see anger or even pity, it was admiration. Or maybe he was really seeing her for the first time. Nikita not sure how to react to it, or the reasoning behind it. So she fled her eyes to the stitchings of her comforter.

Walter was about to leave when he threw her a quick glance over her shoulder. "Oh! Wait! You're grounded." He quickly dragged Nikita's computer chair across the room so that it was facing a corner of her room, making a soft swish sound of the wheels rolling across the wooden floor boards.

"How much do you like the color of your room?" His head tilting to take in the entire room, the soft mint walls staring back at them.

"Well I picked the color...so…" Nikita getting up and out of bed, she still had her clothes on from last night. Now she was embarrassed from how short her shorts really were, awkwardly pulling them down. She even let out the most dissatisfied scoff when she realized she was wearing Stiles' red hoodie, it still smelled of him.

"Great!" Walter sounding chipper. "Go to your corner for an hour. Then go shower and join me for breakfast. You're on your time out or whatever."

Nikita let out a laugh, the kind that made her scrunch her nose and crinkle her eyes. Walter, throwing his stupid dad jokes around again. Except he wasn't joking around, his attention had gone to the digital wrist watch he was wearing. Nikita had eyed the ancient looking artifact wrapped around his wrist. It was a black digital watch, the face of it large and square. She recognized the piece of junk, a gift her and her mother had given him over a decade ago.

She was starting to think Walter wasn't kidding. Her mess of eyebrows coming to meet at the bridge of her nose. "Wait are you...are you serious?" He was grounding her like she was a kid again.

Walter set the time to her watch. "Starting now!" The timer to his watch went off with a sharp beep.

If this were to happen in a typical Nikita manner, she would have protested this, she would have used sharp words to make Walter feel like an insufficient person. Reminding him, without saying it, that he was the one who chose to abandon his family, instead of joining them in Los Angeles. However, something inside of Nikita shifted. It was Walter stepping up, assuming the role of a father, trying it out for the first time in what felt like forever. She was going to let him, maybe he could get it right this time around.

Nikita plopped herself in her chair, crossing her arms. She could hear Walter walking across her room. He paused for a moment. He then placed an Elton John vinyl on the record player, the clear but static kissed sounds of The Bitch is Back playing in the air, and he walked out of her room.

Her hard annoyance faded, with her frown relaxing and pulling into something more content.

* * *

The sound of light charcoal etching across a sketchpad delighted in Nikita's ears. It was the sound of productivity, relished upon especially in a time where she felt like she was in a rut. It was the sound of inspiration hitting her when nothing seemed to have spark her mind of creations any longer. Although the subject which she drew was far from delightful and inspiring. The bloodthirsty eyes were staring back at her, constructed of jagged thick angry lines. Lips were pulled back to reveal the sharpest of snarls, as if it could reach out of the pages and clamp down around her throat.

While it brought the slightest quake to her finger tips, Nikita carried on with drawing. She had to get this right, let every bit of her memory burn itself in the details across the sketchpad. Because she refused to forget, and she refused to let people taint her certainty and twist it into self doubt.

Lydia sat across from her, working on her math homework, equations and numbers Nikita and the rest of the school could never understand. The two of them decided to have their lunch in the library. It was quiet here, desolate when the rest of the school population was either outside or in the cafeteria room. They wanted to do away with the various stares, pretend like their lunch table -which was once full and the most sought after spot- wasn't just the two of them.

The brilliant redhead lifted her head, put off by the deep scratching sound of charcoal pencils.

"What are you drawing?"

Her words few. The silk in her voice had been replaced by a dry rasp of sandpaper. Lydia was still having unexplainable screaming fits, and no one, not even Ms. Morell could get through to her. It would take decades for Ms. Morell to chip away at their walls, even with their weekly visits. The only thing Nikita understood about Lydia's day-terrors was the fact that she felt haunted by Peter Hale. It made no sense seeing how Peter wasn't even in Beacon Hills anymore, having been taken to UCLA medical for matching skin grafts. Perhaps Peter had become an urban legend much like the ghost of Cora Hale, the man with the melted face, and it terrified Lydia.

Nikita peered down at her drawing, which she kept so close to her. It was her secret. No one really knew what she was sketching away madly at inside her confined pages. When they would try to peer over, Nikita would bring it closer to her chest or casually turn away. However, this was Lydia. Throughout their traumas and being isolated together, they had grown closer than ever. The chances of her friend judging her were slim, yet Nikita remained hesitant.

Until it dawned on her. The same creature that had come for Nikita had attacked Lydia. And while Lydia's incident was ruled out as an 'animal attack' she knew better.

Nikita flipped the sketchpad around, putting her drawing on display for Lydia to see, partially hiding behind it. Only her eyes were visible behind the sketchbook, awaiting Lydia's reaction.

It was like ice had frozen inside of Lydia's vein, every one of her muscles wrapping tightly with the stiffness in her body. Her swampy green eyes were deep pools of raw visceral fear. Nikita could feel that energy stabbing right at her, for she had felt it, many many times. Lydia's hand came to gently lower the sketchbook, so that it was face down on the desk.

And just like that, it was out of sight and out of mind. The ice in her veins began to thaw, and Lydia regained composure like nothing had ever happened in the first place. Lydia propped up a textbook to serve as a makeshift partition between them and the rest of the library, treating this with secrecy. Nikita's eyes traveled up to see the new cameras that were installed in the library. Leave it to their Principal to violate the privacy of his own students.

"What is that?" Lydia's raspy voice low, in a whisper, making sure no one can hear. Although the library wasn't busy, there were a few strolling around.

"You know what it is, Lydia." Nikita whispering back. "The same thing that attacked you came after me too."

Lydia was smart, surely she must have thought about this too. Her eyes fell away from Nikita, as if just looking at her was too much to bare. Or perhaps she was recounting the night of formal, bits and pieces of atrocities coming together like patchwork.

"The same thing that came for me at the video store." Nikita pointed out, hoping these points were valid enough for Lydia, she must have understood.

Lydia took in a slow careful breath, gathering enough courage to look at Nikita once more. And while every muscle in her face remained still, dead serious, her bottom lip quivered in worry.

"You're saying a mountain lion held a grudge, remembered you, and came back for you?"

Nikita held up the drawing once more, witnessing the shudder that rolled throughout Lydia's body, like a knee jerk reaction.

"Does that look like a mountain lion to you?" Nikita shoving the page further into Lydia's face who once again brought the notepad down. This time with more impatience, her nostrils flaring.

"I don't feel like discussing this right now." Lydia's voice wrapped in a hushed whisper.

"Then when do we talk about it?" Nikita trying her best not to push Lydia into a corner, she needed to know, more than anything.

Lydia got up, pushing her seat in and looping her arm through the strap of her purse. "Hopefully never." She said over her shoulder and making her leave.

* * *

\- Scott's POV-

"Look at her, she's so small. You honestly think it's her?" Stiles asked Scott, the two of them peering at Nikita and Lydia behind a book rack. The two girls were sitting in the library, minding their own business.

Scott couldn't see Nikita as a killer. She may have had a fiery personality at times, but for the most part she was gentle, and so terribly unaware of what was going on around her. It wasn't physically possible for Nikita to even harm anyone. Scott and Stiles lingered a little longer, watching the girls, to see if there was anything out of the ordinary surrounding them. After some time they decided it was time to check on their other suspect.

While the bustle of students moved past him, Scott remained still, his eyes carefully trained on the part time rock star striding on long legs down the hall. Scott peered from around the corner of a wall to see Jonesy approaching his locker, taking out the books from his backpack one by one. Scott was looking for something, anything out of the usual that could potentially tie Jonesy to the Kanima.

Jonesy was just an average Beacon Hills High student, trying to get through high school like the rest of them. The only thing that stuck out about him was the fact that he managed to juggle both wrestling and yearbook club. Scott noticed Jonesy had decided to forgo the usual ripped denim jacket with the many enamel pins, in its place was a silken royal blue bomber jacket with intricate metallic gold embroidered roses splayed across it. It was sharp and fancy, not at all Jonesy's style, which mostly consisted of old faded band shirts and plenty of ripped denim. It seemed to be getting a lot of attention from those around him. Scott felt a hand on his shoulder gently pulling him back, instantly picking up on Stiles' scent.

"Get anything on him yet?" Stiles rubbing his hands together eagerly like he were planning to dethrone Jonesy. It was no secret Stiles wasn't fond of the wrestler, Scott held no qualms against him. However,the sooner they found out who the Kanima was, the quicker they could drop Nikita as a suspect.

Scott shooshed his friend with a lazy flap of his right hand, returning his attention to Jonesy, this time Stiles was peering on with him. Jackson had approached Jonesy, for their lockers were right next to each other's. The two held no animosity towards each other, even though they had butted heads several times. Jackson at one point seemed threatened by Jonesy's masculinity and social status. As time passed, Jackson had miraculously learned to become more civil towards Beta focused all his attention to listening in on their conversation in hopes this would lead him to an answer.

"Dude...do you need an advil? You're not looking too great." Jonesy's hand had frozen within his locker where he was pulling out a textbook. Scott could only see the back of Jonesy's head -a head full of strategically messy hair- assuming his expression was one of concern.

Jonesy was right, Jackson was looking far from okay, he had yet to take to the bite.

Jackson's lips pulled tight with aversion and he gave Jonesy an unimpressed up and down glance, a look he practically birthed himself, the 'Whittemore Glare'. It never failed to make people feel small and insecure.

"You concerned for me, Darren?"

The annoyance that lifted off of Jonesy was thick and bitter, he didn't like being called by his actual name, everybody knew this and respectfully called him by his chosen name. The grip on Jonesy's textbook was tight, as he still held it half-out of the locker. Scott could feel the wave of irritation rising and falling within Jonesy, he was internally calming himself to show that he wasn't bothered by Jackson's passive aggressive ways.

"I have the ability to be empathetic, you should try it sometime." Scott could already picture the eye roll Jonesy was giving Jackson right now.

Jackson let out a dramatic scoff, even rolling his head back, allowing his eyes to burn into the ceiling lights."I care about many things. Jonesy."

And now he was leaning against his locker, facing Jonesy, with his arms crossed. "I care about athleticism, I care about my education,I care about my car, and I care about you." Jackson finished with a large, but tired grin.

Scott pulled back from where he was watching. Did Jackson really mean to say he cared for Jonesy? Jackson didn't care for anyone but himself. Scott looked to Stiles who was dead set on attempting to read lips since he couldn't hear a thing between the two of them. He hadn't heard the exchange. The Beta went back to listening, surely he was mistaken.

From here Scott could see Jackson's index finger outlining one of the embroidered flowers on Jonesy's elbow. The Wrestler was still, watching the delicate and rare touch. He should have been startled, this was Jackson Whittemore afterall. Jonesy lacked any real surprise. Scott's eyebrows pressed together, he knew this was much too far, it was wrong of him to continue to eavesdrop. Yet he couldn't tear his eyes off of them.

"I also care about the fact that you decided to pair this jacket with another one of your Tame Impala shirts, we get it, you like alternative music."

Jonesy closed his locker, tapping his lock shut. The walls of his steadfast patience were being scratched at continually, and he was trying so hard to be polite. "Why do you care about what I wear with this jacket?"

Another tired but brighter-than-the-sun smile appeared on Jackson's face, bringing light to his eyes which rested above heavy dark circles. Scott had only seen that smile on Jackson's face when he made winning goals. "Did you forget who bought you that jacket?" He seemed so proud that Jonesy was wearing it.

Scott's mind was overflowing with questions, he never thought these two were friends. Was it possible they were more than friends? No. This couldn't be. Jackson had presented himself as a ladies man of sorts, and even then, the girls he went after couldn't seem to compete with his own ego.

Jonesy took a moment to contemplate what he was going to say next. With a shrug of his shoulders the silk looking bomber jacket slid off of him, and he shoved it into Jackson's folded arms, then simply picked up his backpack from off the floor.

"Cool, hope you kept the receipt." His fingers snaked through his messy midnight hair and he bent over to sweep his backpack off the floor. Scott would have expected Jackson to look angry and insulted, instead he looked shook and disheartened all at once.

Both Scott and Stiles looked at each other, bewildered, they couldn't seem to grasp what was happening, Stiles especially who kept mouthing "what the hell?" Scott returned his attention to them to see Jackson holding the jacket in his hands, looking at it as if it were some tarnished trophy that he so lovingly held onto.

"I don't get it. I dumped Lydia like you told me to…" Jackson's eyes never leaving the jacket.

Jonesy turned to Jackson. "No. I said let go of Lydia, because you were using her and leading her on. It wasn't fair, especially with what she's going through. Then you sent her a nasty breakup text. Who do you think you are? Treating people like this?"

Jackson opened his mouth to protest, or maybe defend himself, however Jonesy wouldn't allow him to speak.

" I don't care about your struggles with perfection, your identity, your parents, lacrosse, what clothes match with what, or whatever! People struggle every day. It doesn't give you a pass to be such a jerk." Jonesy put his arms through the strap of his backpack. "I can't be your friend, I can't be the guy who fixes you, Jackson."

Jonesy was just about to turn on his heels when Jackson's hand shot out to wrap firmly around the wrestler's bicep. Scott could practically taste heartbreak on the tip of his tongue, it was salty and acidic, and it was radiating right off of Jackson. He never thought Jackson had the human capacity to feel any sort of way like his. It was evident and palpable for even Scott to understand, the Co-captain of the Lacrosse team was in love with the Captain of the Wrestling team.

"You're my only friend. Please." The pleading in Jackson's eyes and voice was almost too much for Scott himself, this was hard to watch. This fiery trainwreck that he couldn't seem to look away from.

Jonesy pulled in his bottom lip for a moment, his sorry glance washing over his once friend. His plump bottom lip released from it's hold, deep pink in color, and pulled into a hardened line of swore this would be where Jonesy's firmness would shake, and he would forgive Jackson. Take pity on him.

" You drove everyone out, including me."

Jackson let go of Jonesy's arm, his hand falling lamely at his side, the other still holding onto the jacket. "You said you had the ability to be empathetic." A last ditch effort on a sinking ship.

"I feel sorry for your state, not the situation which you're in. You did this to yourself."

Scott himself felt crushed, the weight of Jonesy's words were impactful. He felt for Jackson, but Jonesy was right. It was weird to see Jackson Whittemore having to deal with the consequences of his actions, he always got away with so much. The Beta even cringed the slightest when Jackson watched Jonesy walk away, then brought the blue silken jacket up to himself to inhale the fleeting scent. Then what followed was the typical Jackson demeanor, he shoved the jacket roughly into his locker and slammed the door shut.

Both Scott and Stiles pulled away from the corner of the wall and looked at each other. Stiles' mouth opened and closed, a verbal diarrhea of questions were about to spew from his mouth. Stiles didn't need to have werewolf hearing abilities to pick up what was going on between Jonesy and Jackson.

"They uhm." Stiles' cheeks puffed with air and he let out a slow breath. "Jackson...Jackson. He. Guys? Jonesy? Are you kidding me? Even he has a thing for- Ughhhhhhh."

Scott could only nod his head as Stiles pieced what he saw together. They both knew this was a big deal, them finding out Jackson wasn't straight. Neither of them were to speak of this, or ever bring it up again. Footsteps were starting to pace quickly over to them, he knew those hurried angry strides, it was Jackson.

"Pretend I said something funny! Now!" Scott threw Stiles off completely, but he went with it anyways, delivering the most awkward and forced laughs.

"Oh gosh! That was one hell of a joke, Buddy!" Stiles pushing at Scott's shoulder, really amping up the theatrics.

It actually managed to work when Jackson had approached them. "What's so funny, besides the two of you being borderline idiots?"

"Borderline?" Stiles snorted. Usually Jackson would have gone for 'full idiot' but today seemed to be partial. Perhaps the nicest thing the uppity jock had ever spoken to them.

"Are you ok?" Scott still felt sorry for what he had witnessed only moments ago, and guilty for finding out something he wasn't supposed to know. Even though he wasn't friends with Jackson, he had betrayed his trust.

Jackson's serious eye roll could have orbited the sun. "No, I'm not okay! Derek Hale decided to kidnap me from my house and test the Kanima venom on me. Idiot tied me up like an animal, when he's the animal!"

Both Scott and Stiles leaned in, much too close in Jackson's personal space. They both wanted to know the outcome of Derek's little experiment, was Jackson the Kanima? Jackson had lead them to a cliffhanger in this dramatic story, they were reeling and needed to know how it ended. Jackson scoffed and looked away, declining them the conclusion they were salivating after.

"WELL?" They both asked with impatience.

Jackson turned suddenly to look at them and Scott swore an acidic hiss escaped his lips. "IT WASN'T ME YOU MORONS!"

They both jumped back, leaving Jackson's space. And now Jackson and Stiles were bickering on what this meant, and who it could possibly be. Jackson for the most part didn't care and wanted to be left out on this, still on his solo crash and burn mission on achieving werewolf-ness. Scott however, remained distracted from their conversation. When it came for him, it was like a whisp of something familiar. The faint scent of deep cologne, citrus, and something stronger. He knew that scent. Then the voice came, Derek with his usual lacking enthusiasm.

"I'm on the lacrosse field."

Always so blunt and straight to the point, Scott knew he couldn't expect anything more of him.

He didn't waste a second bolting out of the hall to run across the field. There he was next to Boyd -the actual muscles of the Pack- clad in his leather jacket as usual. Derek stood still amongst the green like a statue. His cold grey eyes calculating, devising a whole new plan now that his first had failed. Stiles, Allison, and Scott could hardly keep up with Derek, who seemed to always be one step ahead of them, playing them like fools in order to get whatever he wanted.

Now that Jackson failed the Kanima test, Derek would go to his next suspect.

"Stay away from her!" Scott let out a growl of warning as he approached the two.

Derek and Boyd were far from bothered. Even giving each other small impish grins.

"She embodies what she really is, in her case...She's a cold blooded lizard. You know it's true, Scott." Derek stated, unfazed by Scott's anger. "I'm here to take care of it, because you and the egg-head have done nothing."

He couldn't believe the venom Derek was spitting at Nikita. They weren't speaking anymore, but Scott knew that they were once close, family even. How could Derek do away with someone like that? She didn't deserve this sort of treatment from anybody.

"Stay away from Nikita, Derek, or I swear-"

Derek's eyebrows pulled up like they were connected to puppet strings, his reaction as if someone dared throw a shoe at his face. Insulted and confused all at once, Derek took a step closer to Scott, his jaw twitching and tightening before speaking.

"What on earth makes you think I would ever harm Nikita in any sort of way? I would never lay a finger on her."

"I don't trust you." In fact Scott didn't trust anyone with the Hale name at this point.

Derek went back to stuffing his hands in his pockets, his face returning to stone. "I don't care who you trust at this point. You're incapable of dealing with this situation. If I were you I would run back to class, I'm sure Erica and Isaac are having a lovely chat with Lydia right now, as we speak."

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

It was time for chemistry class, her least favorite subject at all. Never mind that she hardly understood the ramblings of her teacher. Nikita was certain he was the demon spawn of Lord Voldemort and Joffrey Baratheon, conceived in the depths of Mordor, bred to reign terror on the students of Beacon Hills High. She watched as Mr. Harris pushed up his black framed glasses with his index finger, it kept sliding down his greasy nose. It didn't help that Erica too was in this class, she sat a few rows over, her and Isaac in matching leather jackets. The ego tripping blonde blew a kiss towards Nikita, who only rolled her eyes and went back to minding her own business.

She sat quietly at her lab table with Lydia, who was blissfully in her own world once more. It felt like their conversation from earlier was never spoken in the first place, Nikita didn't dare bring it up for now. She knew Lydia was grasping at some semblance of normalcy, rejecting ideas and theories that terrified her or painted her out of the norm.

"How do you and I share any classes?" Nikita wasn't the most academically inclined student, especially in comparison to Lydia Martin, then again no one was on Lydia's level.

Lydia was already laying out her pencils and highlighters from her book bag. "Hmm?" She seemed so absent minded today. "I take some classes for the fun of it, it's my college courses that matter. Not-" Her right hand waved an arch to signal the entire class. "Whatever basic crap this is."

Well, Lydia sure had a way of inspiring confidence in other people…

Stiles and Scott entered the class room in their usual hurry. She didn't need to turn around to know it was them. Nikita could hear it in their clumsy mismatched foot steps, the slamming of the door, the audible sneer coming from Mr. Harris himself; like a creature of the deep sea breaking through the surface of light.

Mr. Harris started his lecture:

"Einstein said two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, the universe I'm not too sure about." He walked right besides Stiles and rested a hand on his shoulder "But I, myself, have encountered infinite stupidity."

Nikita was watching from over her shoulder, unable to hide her smile as Stiles took the insult. This would be the first time she had agreed with Mr. Harris.

Patting Stiles' shoulder he walked away, the annoyed look on Stiles' face was something Nikita never wanted to forget.

" So to help combat the plague of ignorance in this class, you're going to combine efforts through a series of experiments."

Mr. Harris pushed his glasses up his greasy nose again. " We work clockwise, every time the timer goes off the person on the left switches stations! Now go!"

DING! The timer went off, signaling them all to switch.

Nikita let out an audible groan as Lydia left, only to be replaced by Isaac. There was nothing wrong with Isaac, except for the fact that he often kept Erica in his company. Nikita was constantly avoiding Erica, even turning the halls if she was there. She knew very little of Isaac, apart from the fact that he lived across from Jackson, and that he had a mishap with the law not too long ago. For the most part he seemed very mild mannered, quiet, thoughtful, and kind.

He flashed her a disarming smile and gave her a half nod. "I know i'm not as smart as Lydia, but don't worry, we'll figure this out."

A pinkish hue had blossomed across her felt bad now, he had heard her groan of opposition. Isaac must have thought Nikita disliked him, when that wasn't true, she hardly knew him in the first place.

"I didn't know you joined a bike gang." Nikita quipping with him,moving them from any sort of awkward tension to a place of ease, She hoped Isaac would go with this.

His blue eyes lit up with a levity, almost thrown off with the punch in her humor. It wasn't expected from someone who always tried to keep their head down. His fingers popped the color of his jacket, showing it off. "Yeah, I was going for a not so subtle Leather Daddy look, you think it works alright?"

Nikita let out a snort, she wasn't aware that Isaac actually had a humerous bone in his body, often he looked so serious and only kept to himself. "I didn't know you could crack jokes, or speak for that matter."

Isaac leaned close, so that she could smell the spice of his skin and the leather of his jacket. He brushed a ribbon of chestnut hair behind her ear with an intimate sweep with his fingers, letting the pad of his thumb linger on her cheek a second too long for her liking. And like that, her smile began to waver.

"I speak only when I have something to say."

Nikita was processing what this had meant. Why was Isaac coming onto her all the sudden? He had never shown interest in her before. This must have been some sort of show to piss of Stiles. Her lips curled even more, Nikita's nose crinkling with her smile. She would go along with this to see where it would lead.

"And what is it you want to say me?"

"You're beautiful," Isaac said in a dreamy fluffy tone.

Nikita let out a laugh, half choking on her saliva, having to cover her mouth. Isaac's confident smolder crashed and burned at his feet, he must have had girls laugh at his face before. She could see splotches of red working up his neck, either in embarrassment or in absolute annoyance of her. His nostrils flared and his eyes darted around the room, as if looking for an escape from her.

"Is there someone you're trying to make jealous?" She asked, tilting her head to encompass the room. She wasn't a fool, and didn't feel like being played. She was all out of games, used up and outplayed.

Isaac smirked and glanced over Nikita's shoulder to see Stiles. The boy rocking the buzzcut and a terrible eye twitch was clinging to the edge of his seat, red faced and deeply raging on the inside. The scent of protective outrage emanating from the measly human wafted so thickly, Isaac felt like he could choke upon it.

"Not looking for jealousy, Nikita," he said. The slow drawl of his voice when he spoke her name was savored on his tongue, like it were raw honey. "Is it so hard to imagine I might find you attractive?"

He was way smooth, had game unlike Nikita could remember. This didn't feel like Isaac she was talking to. It was like he took the pages out of how to be a player douchebag, or how to be the next Jackson Whittemore.

Nikita took a moment to pull her lip gloss out of her back pocket, and sliding the wand over her lips. It was nothing more than a pale dusty pink colored lip gloss that tasted of rose water. It brought some color to her face, which lately had been fairer, pasty, and sickly looking. She didn't notice the predatory stillness that had instilled itself in Isaac as he carefully watched her apply the gloss. After she was done, she capped the tube, laying it besides their papers on the desk.

Then she said, "A for effort. But you really need to work on your approach."

Isaac winced at the dig. Nikita now worried if she was being much too harsh on him. Perhaps he had a taste of confidence, and she deflated his ego.

"Thanks though." She muttered, her eyes going back to the instructions page so she could just hurry it with this experiment.

"For what?" Isaac asked, his seductive player's mask slipping to reveal a more naturally keen boyishness that he had always possessed.

"For saying I was pretty," Nikita told him. "It's . . . been a tough week. I needed that."

Isaac shrugged and playfully bumped her shoulder with his.

"Pretty? I called you beautiful."

And he was back with the Cassanova bull shit, Nikita rolling her eyes. With a shake of her head she went back to the assignment, trying to measure out ingredients. Her brain always seemed to deflate when it saw numbers, Nikita was already aggravated with this assignment. Isaac didn't seem too into the assignment either. Instead he picked up Nikita's lips gloss, holding it to the light so that he could see the floating dots of gold shimmer, a far better distraction from their assignment.

"What is this?" He asked while holding the tube between his index finger and thumb, like it were some alien specimen.

She turned to look at him, her hair coming to one side. "Isaac, you nut. Are you serious?"

He then opened the lipgloss, examining it, even bringing it up to his nose. It was like watching a chimpanzee discovering a puzzle. The boys in this school were severely lacking in common sense.

"Are you really sniffing my lipgloss right now?" Nikita not sure if she was entertained or annoyed with him. Although she had to admit, there was something purely innocent about Isaac discovering make up, he really seemed to be enjoying this.

He gave her a careless shrug. "What? I like how it smells, it smells really nice. And it's all shiny. Does it taste like roses too?"

Nikita shot him a hellcat glare when he leaned in close, if there was a way to rip a man's nuts out with just a stare; Nikita had just accomplished it

"Whoah!" Isaac's hands going up in a surrender. "I was just adjusting my seat, that's all."

Another blush blossomed beneath her skin. It seemed Isaac had gotten the hint that she wasn't into him; she wasn't into anyone at the moment.

The lipgloss had slipped from his grip when his hands went up, hitting the floor and rolling under the desk.

"Crap," Nikita said with a sigh.

"I'll get it," Isaac offered gleefully.

He hopped off his tall stool, crouching to the ground and leaving Nikita sitting high. She folded her ankles and waited. Casting another quick look over at where Stiles was sitting. Just a few desks away, he seemed so far, even though he was right there. The two of them made eye contact for a single second, Stiles giving her an unsure half wave and a hopeful smile. Nikita turned around, not bothering to reciprocate. Sighing, she grabbed a colored ink pen from off the desk and began to doodle in dark blue on the upper corner of Isaac's assignment sheet.

Nikita vowed to kick Isaac in the face if he was down there in hopes of a peep show, he was taking an awfully long time.

"You find Narnia down there?" She asked while drawing her masterpiece on Isaac's paper. It was a veiny and angry looking cock blasting off like a rocket towards the mouth of a stick figure drawing of Mr. Harris. This was perhaps her most gorgeous work yet, the creme de le creme of fine arts

He popped back up, resurfacing with the lipgloss in hand, holding it pridefully. "Sorry! It rolled under your bag."

Nikita snatched it right away and watched his baby blue eyes land on his own paper. He burst into laughter at the picture, finding humor that a girl with superior drawing skills would settle on something so kitsch. It was common knowledge that all art students could draw are penises.

"Mind if I hang this in a gallery?" Isaac admiring the vulgar art splayed across the page.

"Do whatever you want Isaac." Nikita twirling her brown hair between her fingers. "It's your paper."

His eyes widened with disbelief, Nikita's words only seemed to dawn on him now. "That's . . . that's my paper!"

Nikita smiled sweetly at him. "Yep. Have fun, turning that in. I wonder what Mr. Harris will think."

"Are you trying to get me in trouble?" he demanded, hissing from between his teeth.

Nikita grabbed her backpack as the timer went off. "That's what you get for screwing around with girls you don't know, and trying to use people to make others jealous."

"You're a bitch." He said flatly, giving in to his defeat.

Nikita shrugged. "I've been called worse."

Isaac was pissed. Nikita smiled, feeling that she'd won that round, but then that ego of hers faltered as she realized exactly where she was supposed to move. Her next station, the next assignment, would take her to the back of the class.

Right back to Stiles.

* * *

\- Stiles' POV-

Stiles was on the edge of his seat, fuming mad. Every molecule in his body was shaking as he watched Isaac lean close to Nikita and brush a silken strand of hair behind her ear. Stiles' teeth clamped on the inside of his cheek, biting down on the soft flesh. He was trying to contain the urge to smack Isaac in the back of the head with his stool, a season WWE wrestler in his mind.

It wasn't the fact Isaac was being heavily flirtatious with her, it was the fact that he was playing her, trying to figure out if she's the kanima or not. Isaac posed a threat over Nikita, and she was unaware of it. There was no telling what the newly transformed Beta would do, after all, Nikita could have possibly killed Isaac's father.

Isaac turned to look over his shoulder, his blue eyes locking with Stiles' brown eyes. The Beta gave Stiles a crooked grin with a raise of his brows, then turned his attention back to Nikita.

Stiles inhaled sharply through his nostrils. Allison kindly placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle shake.

"He's just trying to get a rise out of you, don't let him." She whispered.

"Oh yeah? Just like Erica?" Stiles cocked his head to the right, where Erica was pressing herself up against Scott, her shirt dangerously low, it probably got her written up already. Her hand visibly creeping up along his thigh.

Stiles looked to Allison, she was clearly bothered, but somehow maintained a calm demeanor.

"I hate her." Allison whispered. "But she'll get what's coming for her."

Stiles' knee bounced up and down with impatience, his eyes burning a hole in the back of Isaac's head "I swear if he touches her one more time, I will skin his wolf ass and make Nikita a welcome mat for her to stomp her pretty feet on."

He leaned in closer to the desk "You hear that wolfy? I will skin you ALIVE." Stiles muttered under his breath.

Anger was clouding his judgement at the moment. Isaac was a werewolf, a creature capable of tearing Stiles to bits if he wished. And Stiles...Stiles was a human who could accomplish about three push ups. But that didn't matter to him at the moment, what mattered now was keeping Nikita safe.

"Are you going to be okay?" Allison asked, clearly picking up on him being upset. He wasn't good at hiding it like she was.

"I'll be alright."

Allison looked to him with a sorry expression, he was starting to get used to these. "You really love her, don't you."

The way she spoke, she understood love, she was lucky enough to have it in her life. Her and Scott fought to be with each other, but with Stiles it was never really an option.

"More than you know." Stiles croaked.

Just then the timer went off.

Allison left to sit at another table. Stiles looked up to see Nikita approaching him, he froze. He was unsure of what to do as Nikita plopped down next to him, drained of all enthusiasm and excitement. The dread she felt towards him was starting to constrict around his neck, Stiles had to hook his finger and pull it to let the heat escape. He knew she would rather be anywhere but here, besides him.

This was the closest they had ever been, except for the other night when he checked up on her at the club. The scent of her white jasmine perfume filled his senses, a chill ran down his spine, he had forgotten how intoxicating the smell of her was. Nikita was averting eye contact with him, she was focused on the assignment. He couldn't help but to stare, he found every part of her to be adorable, from her thick black lashes, the round apples of her cheeks, but most of all; her single dimple. This would be the first time he would talk to her properly since he broke things off.

He had to say something to her, the painful silence was driving him insane.

"Say something, anything, you idiot!" Stiles scolded himself mentally.

"So...Uh, weird weather we're having, right?" He finally said with a forced chuckle.

Stiles wanted to bash his own skull against the desk, maybe that way all his secrets would spill out for Nikita to find. What the hell was he thinking with that opening line? Could he be anymore clichéd? She didn't even bother to look up from the paper, his words were wind to her.

She hated him, she had every right to do so. And here he was thinking his plan of distancing himself from her was so genius. What a fool he had been, if he could just go back in time and had done things differently. Granted he was between a rock and a hard place. What Stiles did was with good intentions, he not only had to protect Nikita, but he had to protect Scott as well; his best friend. Stiles swallowed past the thick lump building in his throat, if only he could say something that showed he still cared for her, something to make her hate him less. What he was about to say was a gamble, either she would hate him more, or finally soften up around him.

"Nik." He used the nickname he had given her, this time it had seemed to catch her attention.

She finally looked to him, giving him an expression that basically screamed "What the hell do you want?"

"I know you hate me... With the way we ended things." His voice dropped low, close to a whisper.

"With the way _You_ ended things." Nikita reminded him sharply.

"And hate you? How on earth could I _possibly_ hate you? I don't care about you enough to hate you." Her cold biting remarks caused him to cringe and shrink in his seat. It was a slap in the face, but warranted.

Stiles closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, carefully choosing his words this time "I just...I care about you." She still didn't care enough to grant him any sort of recognition to his presence.

'I did it all to protect you, i'm so sorry." He wanted to say. But there was no conversation to be had between the two of them. Whatever they had, whatever it was, it had been tarnished by his own doing. She was so beautiful and kind, and he had ruined all good things about her. He wished he could tell her why he did what he did, why he had to protect her, why he had to protect Scott; how he was harboring the same secret from his own father.

When he didn't answer she turned to look at him. Her eyes were the color of a spring forrest, searching within him for the answers he could never give her. She wanted to know he had hurt her, she wanted to be included again, she wanted to be loved.

Maybe he could try and attempt to explain himself without giving too much away. "Nikita..I-"

Before Stiles could say anything more, he noticed Lydia pulling out a sugar crystal covered in clear syrupy fluid with a pair of tongs. His narrowed eyes glanced across the room to focus on the crystal, the clear liquid….she was about to eat it!

Stiles jumped out of his seat, his stool crashing on the floor behind him.

" **Lydia! no**!" He shouted.

Lydia turned to give Stiles a scathing glance, also not a fan of his existence. Of course Lydia was the first person in class to figure out the formula. She was going to take pride in her creation, and eat it like they were instructed to. Erica was by her side, encouraging Lydia to do so. With that she bit down on the crystal, the kanima's venom now in her system.

Scott stood up as well, as he watched in shock, unable to do anything now. It was too late, Lydia had consumed the venom and now her body would give out from the paralytic toxins.

But it never came...

* * *

\- Derek's POV-

He climbed up the side of the house with ease, not wanting to startle her or get caught by a nosey Stiles who sat below, unaware of the Alpha's presence.

Derek had been watching Stiles for a while now, as the boy sat in his far from subtle blue jeep just around the corner. Trying -yet failing- to look like he belonged there. Stiles may have been a mouthy little punk, but no one could question his intelligence. Derek had sent his Betas after Lydia, but Stiles had anticipated Derek coming here and waited within sight of Nikita's house.

Getting around Stiles was easy, the mere human was distracted by everything around him. The Alpha scaled a white wooden lattice frame on the side of the house, finding his way to the edge of the roof.

Derek peered through the rain streaked window to see Nikita sitting at her desk watching makeup tutorials on youtube. A plate of red velvet cupcakes sat beside her, Nikita enjoying the confectionary. Eating away at them so like it were her last meal on earth. However, he wasn't here to judge her eating habits. Derek's hard gaze fixed on her, he hardly recognized the girl in front of him. She looked frail, emaciated even. How was it possible for someone so weak to kill men twice her size? He had been informed of Lydia's immunity towards the Kanima venom, but he had to make sure. It was for his peace of mind, he needed to see with his own eyes, Derek wasn't going to take any chances. He didn't want to believe Nikita was the Kanima, but how could he remain ignorant to all the signs? Derek had always ignored Erica's warnings of Nikita, dismissing it as Erica's jealousy.

He should have been more trusting of his Beta, she was his pack now.

What if Erica was right?

Derek could feel his hard gaze melting instantly. Nikita was his family too, she was his home, his only home. She was the thread connecting him to his past, to his happy faded memories. Memories he would always cherish for he could never get them back. She was the last good piece of something he used to have. Derek would never lay a finger on her, he had sworn himself to protect her... Derek had already failed once.

"Please don't let it be her, please, please." For a faithless man, Derek found himself praying to whatever spiritual entity was listening from above. He would pray to the gods, he would pray to his ancestors.

Could he continue to let her kill innocent people? Was he actually asking himself these questions?

Derek shook his head. If it was her, maybe he could find a way to help her, release her from her master. Or perhaps take her in, train her to control her powers, he was training three betas already, why couldn't he add a Kanima to the mix?

 _"I told you it wasn't him." Erica let out a sigh as she circled Jackson's limp body. He looked pathetic down there, not at all the stoic and strong athlete he posed himself to be, and she was loving it._

 _He had just been fed the venom and collapsed onto the floor. All muscles in his body ceased to move, or even twitch, even his mouth wasn't running for once. Just whimpers that escaped his parted lips. Jackson squeezed his eyes shut, afraid of what would come next._

 _"Of course it's not him." Boyd chimed in "He's too much of a coward."_

 _Derek stood tall above Jackson, with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. He had hoped with all his might that Jackson was the Kanima. The list was dwindling and all signs were starting to lead to Nikita._

 _Erica let out a tired groan, her hand coming to rest on the back of Derek's shoulder, her thumb massaging the spot there. Nothing could get him to relax." You know, and I know very damn well who the Kanima is...Let's stop wasting our time."_

 _"You're the only person I know who can wear envy so well." Isaac said while leaning against the cold wall, he knew his words would instigate her._

 _And instigate they did. Erica turned around and roared at him, her fierce eyes flashing yellow in umbrage, his burning bright in return._

 _It did nothing to move Isaac, he even let out a 'tut', wagging his finger in her face._

 _Boyd, always the voice of reason, stepped forward, out of the shadows. "What if she's right Derek? There's no harm in giving her the test. Maybe this could help her?"_

" _How do you even suggest I poison her in the first place?" Derek running out of patience, he couldn't believe he was even beginning to contemplate this in the first place._

" _Easy." Erica had seated herself on a crate, her black boots dangling just above the ground. She reached in her back pocket and pulled out a tube of lipgloss. It was pale in color, a shimmery pink. The lip gloss itself was still wrapped in clear packaging, untouched and unopened._

" _She's always applying this exact lip gloss."_

 _Boyd was right, there was no harm in testing her. It would be quick and it would be painless and most importantly it would ease Derek's worried mind. It was better to be safe than sorry._

 _Derek shut his eyes and let out a sigh of defeat, he knew he had to do this. Just get it done with, cauterize it instead of letting it bleed out into a mess._

 _" Fine." Derek finally giving in. " Isaac, can you get near her?"_

 _His Beta flashed a cocky grin, running his fingers down the lapel of his jacket. "That should be easy."_

Derek sucked the cold air from between his teeth as he watched Nikita fish through her makeup bag. It was possible that any moment now Nikita would pull out the tainted lip gloss Isaac had planted on her and apply it. All it took was a drop of Kanima venom to be consumed, a subtle lick of her lips and it would be done, just like that.

His mouth was running dry, his tongue feeling rather heavy. Heat traveled up his spine, while the rest of his body broke out into a cold sweat. This was his body telling him something, his heart too, his mind screaming at him that this was wrong. All of this was so messed up. He had to watch this, force himself to find out what comes next.

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't go through with this.

Derek panicked, he was so close to screaming out her name. Instead he scaled down the side of the home, rushing down the block and around the corner to where Stiles' car was. He banged on the window of the jeep and effectively scared the crap out of an unsuspecting Stiles who nearly hit the roof of his car with how high he jumped in his seat.

"Get out NOW!" Derek demanded, even opening the car door, any rougher and he would have ripped it off its hinges.

Stiles half fell out of his car in process of getting out, sliding down the door. "What the hell!?"

Derek's hand bunched in Stiles' shirt, pulling him up to his feet."I need you to go distract Nikita now!"

Stiles' looked like he was hit with a shovel, his mouth attempting to form sentences but failing.

"Wh-what!? What did you do!?"

Derek didn't have time for an explanation. "NOW!"

His voice coming out in a half growl, enough to terrify Stiles into submission. He broke into a run, charging towards Nikita's front door. Derek returned to the side of the house, scaling up to Nikita's window once again. She was dumping her makeup onto her desk now to follow the youtube tutorial. A string of highly inappropriate words left Derek's mouth in a whisper as she picked up the toxic lip gloss.

Then, the doorbell rang, and Derek felt his anxieties drop along with the lip gloss. She had put it down to go answer the door. The Alpha waited for Nikita to leave her room before entering. The glass window lifted with ease, squeaking slightly with the rust that had built from the rain. Derek entered Nikita's warm room, inching closer to her desk. He picked up her lip gloss, sliding it into his back pocket where it would be safe and far away from her.

From here he could hear Stiles and Nikita down stairs.

"Uh. Your ASOS package was accidentally delivered to my door."

Derek rolled his eyes, Stiles was fumbling through every word. He probably picked up Nikita's package from her front door, Stilinski was the worst liar he knew.

"Cool. Thanks." Nikita probably grabbed the package back.

"Look. I know we don't talk much anymore. But I still care f-"

"That's nice. Goodnight, Stiles." Derek could hear the anger looming in Nikita's voice, the door shutting soon after.

The Alpha's eyes landed on the plate of red velvet cupcakes. There were already five discarded cupcake liners on the plate, even more in the trash can next to her desk, and she was in the middle of another one. He leaned closer to see what it was about these that Nikita seemed to love so much. He could pick up the scent of rich buttercream and decadent chocolate off of them. The sweetest smells intermingling. But underneath those scents there seemed to be more, a scent that left him standing perplexed. It was so terribly subtle and familiar, but he had a difficult time processing it with the chocolate heavily laid over it.

Nikita's footsteps were rushing up the stairs now, hurried and heavy. Derek scrambled out of her room, making sure to carefully and quietly close the window behind him. He crouched just below her window, only his eyes visible as he watched her slam her door shut behind her. Nikita leaned back against the door, her chest rising and falling, the black and white print ASOS package in her hand. She carelessly let it drop to the floor, bringing that same hand to rake her hair back. She then marched over to her bed to flop face first into her pillows.

It was evident she still harbored intense feelings for Stiles. He had to give it to her, she was very good at hiding it. But it was impossible for it to go under the radar when a seasoned werewolf like Derek could pick it up.

"Good." Derek thought. "Let her life struggles revolve around boys. I hope she never experiences true pain."

With one last longing look he mentally said goodnight to her, hoping tomorrow would be a better and brighter to Nikita.

Derek scaled down and allowed himself to lean against the side of the home. He let out a breath, that was far too intense for him, and he had seen some intense things in his life. His phone vibrated in his back pocket, Derek reluctantly pulled it out. Afraid it was his Betas informing him that Lydia wasn't the Kanima. What he read caused him to smile wide, tears prickling at his eyes, relief taking all the weight of stress of his heart.

The Kanima was Jackson.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading this. Please leave me some presents/reviews. If you like this story, liked any part of this chapter, let me know in reviews!

Next chapter should be tons of fun, especially for you Jonesy lovers, even you Matt lovers ;]


	31. Chapter 31

Hello everyone! Thank you so much for the reviews. You guys are friggin amazing, thank you for giving me a reason to keep writing.

I totally forgot to mention that The Gloaming has it's own tumblr now! Hourofthegloaming

Go check it out if you haven't! You can see the edits and videos i've made (i've made tonnnns) All the beautiful gifts people have made me, and I can answer any gloaming questions you may have on there!

Hope you guys enjoy this chapter, it was a ton of fun to write!

* * *

When the sound came, it was the sharpest and shrillest ring they had heard in a while. Brody and Walter had fought so hard to keep their patient alive. He flatlined anyways, having bled to death amongst the operating table. Four ragged claw marks proving humans were nothing but flimsy sacks of meat.

" _Animal attacks_." Walter snorted, the word left a bitter taste on his tongue, such a heavy lie that was so easily bought amongst the sheep like citizens of Beacon Hills. "Animal attacks my ass."

Gently, with a gloved hand, he rolled the boy's head to the side. A scratch ran across the base of the neck, damaging the nerves in the spinal canal...He had been paralyzed. Walt's finger ran across the cut, to find it had been glossed over with a clear thick liquid, perhaps a secretion of some sort. Something was telling him this was a paralytic agent in itself.

Walter tapped his thumb and index finger, testing the viscosity of the clear substance.

"Brody...What do you make of this?" It was then he noticed how silent his partner had been.

Walter turned to see Brody hunched over the sink, gripping the stainless steel basin to steady his balance. His usual darker complexion had been washed away, left with a chalky white sheen. His breathing, heavy and worrisome. Brody's white lab coat was covered with thick splatters of the patient's blood. Walter took a slow step forward not to startle the man. Brody's body was trembling the slightest with each deep breath, desperately trying to compose himself.

"Brody, control yourself." Walter hissed as he looked around the room, making sure there was no one else was with them.

His partner looked over his shoulder, to the ragged and bloodied victim on the table. His eyes squeezed shut as he turned to face the sink again, the sight too much to bare at the moment.

Walter immediately covered the victim with a white hospital sheet, removing the gruesome sight from his friend.

"What has gotten into you, Brody?"

He and Brody had seen worse than this.

Brody peeled off his sullied gloves, then his stained lab coat, relieving himself of the sticky and uncomfortable blood seeping into his scrubs "I-I have a lot on my mind right now. That's all."

Walter's temper lately had been like a shaken bottle of soda. Each and every day that had passed he felt his accumulated frustrations getting ready to erupt. But he kept them at bay, he had to keep a clear headspace if he were going to perform his duties as a doctor.

"It's Alex, isn't it."

His partner turned on the cold tap and splashed his face with icy water, awakening his dull senses "He's...He's having troubles with...Taking on responsibility."

"Could you kindly remind your son to hurry the fuck up and get issues sorted?"

Brody went to the hand sanitizer dispenser. " It doesn't work like that. Adding pressure will only cause him to freak out. He has to want it. He has to want to take this path of adulthood. We have to wait."

It was odd to see the tables turning. It was Walter who had feared his daughter since her return to Beacon Hills. Fearing that if he pushed too hard or pushed at all she would up and flee. Brody was feeling the same. Five years Alex spent in Chicago, away from family, away from this town, and Brody feared his son would run at the first sight of distress.

"What do you mean WAIT!?" Walter's voice echoed in the near empty operating room. Walter slapped scalpels and various instruments off the metal operating table and onto the floor. The high pitched sound rang in the O.R causing a blanket of silence to fall on them soon after.

Brody turned to look at him with a sorry expression, which only angered Walter even more.

"Like glass, some things can't be forced, it causes them to brittle and break." He replied calmly as he anxiously paced around the empty O.R.

In all his life never had Brody felt so much pressure, so much stress. He and Walter had been good friends and work partners for many years, they never had a single disagreement or argument until now. They were partners, they worked so smoothly with each other, a well oiled machine that had saved countless lives. He understood Walter's anger and fear, but Brody could only do so much.

Walter let out a sarcastic snort of laughter "What a load of crap, did you get that out of a fortune cookie?"

Brody stopped pacing and faced his best friend "There's no need for snide remarks, friend."

Walter's olive green eyes grew darker as he gave Brody a venomous stare. 'I am sick of waiting, this was supposed to be taken care of last week. I cannot stand and watch her grow weaker and weaker."

His mossy eyes went to where the patient laid. The dead man's blood starting to blossom and spread through the white sheet, growing ever so slowly.

Brody closed his eyes and let out a sigh as he ran his fingers through his black greased hair "It will happen, all I ask-"

"WHEN!" Brody shouted, his fists slammed down on the steel operating table.

They were both interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. The petite small blonde nurse had opened the door, a clipboard held in her trembling hands. She knew it was a terrible time to intervene, but it had to be done.

"How can we help you Nurse Beckley?" Brody talking with his soft spoken voice, for Walter was still shaking with anger, literally pacing to blow steam off before taking off his bloodied gloves.

"Uhm well." Her voice small and quivering much like herself. "I just finished running inventory, and there were thirteen missing blood samples from the freezer. Also…" She tucked the clipboard beneath her arm to wring at her hands. "There's a man here by the name of Gerard Argent, he's here to see you; Dr. Grace."

Walter's head lifted from his transfixion on the ground, finding his eyes rested easy on the muted blue colors of the linoleum beneath his feet.

He then rushed past Nurse Beckley, out the door, leaving Brody with her so they could remove the body. It took a few great strides of Walter walking through the hall. Somehow Gerard had made it past the restricted double doors, waiting for him with a smile of content on his face. The seasoned hunter's thin fingers ran around the rim of his newsboy cap to lower it down, as if it would help him keep a low profile amongst the hospital staff.

"What's this about?" Walter asked, sparing any false friendliness, even Gerard wasn't worth that effort.

This caused the hunter to smile with a wide toothy grin, showing his yellowed coffee stained teeth. "I'm just checking up on how my favorite doctor is doing."

Walter's fingers went into his pocket to feel the cold steel of a sharpened scalpel waiting there.

"Cut the crap, Gerard, what do you want?"

The smile he wore soon dissipated. The soft wrinkles that etched his face grew deeper, his dangerous cold-dead stare boring through Walter. It did nothing to intimidate the Doctor.

"I know you have strong feelings against Derek Hale lately." Gerard daring to point out.

None of that was true, Walter still had love for his best friend's son. Derek was like family to him. But dire circumstances forced Derek and Walter apart. When it came down to it, Walter had to keep his daughter safe, keeping her in the shadows; away from the supernatural; and that meant Derek.

Gerard didn't want for any sort of response. "Derek's uncle nearly killed your only daughter...Peter succeeded in killing mine."

Walter's eyes locked with Gerard's dark eyes. They were like two pieces of coal, they stared back at him; all the world's rage flickering behind those dark eyes. The gaze of a father who had to bury his own daughter.

How did Gerard know Nikita was attacked by Peter Hale? Walter's hand wrapped tightly around the Hunter's bicep, easily dragging him along, and shoving him into an empty O.R. Walter had done it with so much ease, or Gerard didn't bother to resist.

The Hunter let out a mocking laugh, intrigued by Walter's show of aggression." I must say your effort in covering up Nikita's accident was pathetic. What kind of a father convinces his daughter that it was just an accident? A drunken stumble in the dark?"

The thinly veiled threat sent Walter's blood boiling, Gerard meant to expose everything to Nikita if he didn't comply. That was if he could get Nikita near him in the first place. His fingers started to unclench from the fists, attempting to cool his temper. It was then Walter noticed the shadowy figures standing outside the O.R room, he could see them from the windowed door. They were Gerard's thugs, his fellow hunters. His hairs now standing on end.

He had heard of The Collection.

The Collection was Gerard's literal collection of the finest hunters scoured from every corner of the world. Trained killers since birth, some born into a family of hunters, trained as child legacies, others hired hitmen or scouted straight from the military. They were born with chaos and destruction in their blood, a pension for violence.

They knew no code.

They recognized no morals.

Happy hunting was their game, and it was open season every single day. They were a reckoning force, and all it took for them to rain down a hail of bullets over this town was a single phone call from Gerard himself.

Walter swallowed past the dry path forming down his throat, pretending this intimidation tactic wasn't taking a hold of him. His hand went to quickly stuff inside his lab coat, the only form of comfort was the scalpel. Walter quickly pulled his hand out, now was not the time.

"I'm going to ask one more time, what the hell do you want?"

The Hunter looked delighted to hear the slightest hint of apprehension behind Walter's voice. It was a crack in an otherwise iron clad wall.

"All I want, is for you to bring me Derek Hale."

Walter would rather sever his own fingers off than rat Derek out. The boy meant a lot to him, and if anything should happen...

"Get out of my hospital." Walter hissed. The scalpel in his pocket was feeling hot now, the little voice in his head screaming at him to drive it right into Gerard's neck, rip into his external carotid arteries, and let him bleed dry at his feet.

His hand went back into his pocket, this time beside the scalpel was something else. Something far more valuable than the weapon begging for his attention. Walter's hands were quick from earlier, lifting it off of Gerard. His fingers ran over a smooth cold box, wanting to know what was inside.

As if on cue Gerard's gang of hunters entered the room. Each one larger and bulkier looking than the last. They were only pups compared to his war dogs, novices, far too young to be experienced. However each carried a gun on their hilt, lifting the corner of their heavy coats for Walter to see.

Gerard was looking like he was in his element now, untouchable while surrounded by his brainless bloodthirsty comrades. Walter was outnumbered, it was far too risky to do anything.

" I have great respect for you, Dr. Grace. But I won't hesitate in taking care of Nikita the way Kate took care of the Hale family."

Anger, in the color red washed over his vision and now the only thing he could see was Gerard standing there, that smug smile, those coffee stained teeth glistening beneath the harsh lights. He had to calm himself before he got himself killed, what good would Walter be if he were dead? Leave his only child an orphan.

This was it.

This reminded him why he had shrouded her so deeply in secrecy, why he had kept Nikita away from this world. For any doubts that had filled him, had fled once again.

Walter took a few steps towards Gerard, each of his guards going for their gun until Gerard put up a hand, holding them back from harming the Doctor.

" Maybe one of these days I'll pull out a hunting rifle, and find you in the woods where no one can hear you scream. Then your noble son can bury his sister and his father."

Walter's voice dripping with disdain, his hand gripping tightly around Gerard's weak arm." I'll be the one putting you in the pine box, Argent."

The door to the O.R opened, Brody stood on the other side. His face still, deep in his always calm demeanor.

"What's going on here gentlemen?" He inquired, his voice on the verge of being angry and irritated.

Gerard pulled himself away from Walter and straightened his lapel. "Just catching up with a friend, we're about to leave."

"Good." Brody's dark gaze had grown even darker like the depths of undiscovered oceans, where no man could go. "Leave now. You and your men are no longer welcomed here, in fact you will never step foot here again."

Gerard himself blinked a few times, coming to. Wordlessly he and his thugs began to leave the O.R, complying to Brody without the slightest friction.

It was then Walter finally felt like he could let out the breath he was holding in. His shaking fingers finally finding the object he had lifted off of Gerard in his pocket. Walter pulled out a little silver pill box, Brody's curiosity bringing him to stand beside his friend. The two of them looked inside to find white pills, which they both recognized immediately. They exchanged a confused glance before realizing what it meant. Walter left the O.R in search of Gerard, ignoring Brody calling after him.

"Argent!" Walter shouted before Gerard could leave the hospital, the older gentleman froze in his tracks before turning.

"You might need these." Walter threw the pill case at Gerard, who fumbled before catching it.

Now it was Walter's turn to smile.

Gerard Argent was on his way to death, and his options for survival relied on the creature he hated the most.

The irony sweeter than any ripe fruit nature could offer.

* * *

-Scott's POV-

Scott walked through the double doors of the hospital with a bag of Chinese food take out in hand, one of the few places open at this time of night. It was an hour ago when he received a phone call from Walter, asking if Scott could do him a solid and drop off dinner for him. Scott didn't ask why Walter couldn't eat at the cafeteria, or ask his mother. Scott liked Walter. From what he could tell and their many interactions, he was a kind and smart man who treated his mother with the utmost respect, and had embraced Scott. He made Melissa happy, and that was what mattered the most.

It was there at the front desk where he spotted Nikita. It seemed she was ready for bed, perhaps even asleep earlier. She wore her dark chestnut in a sort of bun, long tendrils of hair framed her sunken face. His eyes spotted the red hoodie she had decided to don, he recognized that red hoodie anywhere. Nikita must have held onto Stiles' hoodie when he gave it to her the night of the Kanima attack at the Jungle Club. In her hands looked to be a brown bag, he could smell something garlicky and savory coming from the bag. Perhaps Walter was very hungry tonight.

Approaching Nikita was going to be awkward, Scott already knew. The two of them stayed out of each other's way. She had a strong dislike for him, he deserved her dislike for him and accepted it. It also made staying away from Nikita that much easier. There were times where they were forced together and he couldn't avoid her, but that didn't mean he was going to be rude to her.

"Hey." Scott gave Nikita a friendly smile, standing beside her as a nurse phoned in for Dr. Walter.

She glanced at him for a moment to see who was talking to her. Then with a not-so-subtle roll of her eyes when she looked away. "Hi."

Talking to Nikita was as hard as this Kanima business. For someone of her miniature stature with big innocent brown eyes...she could be intimidating if she wished to be. Scott swallowed nervously, hoping to make the best out of this awkward situation.

"So uhm. Are you going to Jonesy's concert?"

When she turned to look at him, Scott took a few steps back. The venom burning behind those hazel eyes were clear. "Can we just...not do the small talk? There's no point in putting effort in any of this."

Scott opened his mouth to apologize, apologizing was the only thing he could do. There were truly no words that could ever balm this wide gaping tear between them, this self inflicted wound seemed like the right thing to do. And every night he stayed up, a list of worries running through his head. On that list were the new Betas, Derek dead set on killing everyone and everything, Jackson being the Kanima, and Nikita, of course. He knew these same worries had Stiles and Allison tossing and turning at night as well.

They were saved from conversation when Walter showed up in the waiting room. He greeted them both with a wide smile. His smile forced, like someone had pressed a gun to the back of his head. Scott could feel the tremulous waves of trepidation rolling off of him, something was wrong.

Both Nikita and Scott were brought into Walter's arms for a loving embrace. Scott often forgot what a big and burly dude Walter actually was, with the body of a slow aging college football player. Scott was at ease with the Doctor's affection, he didn't need werewolf senses to feel the love Walter was emanating right now. He squeezed the two of them, pushing Scott and Nikita together for their group hug before pulling away.

"Couldn't make up your mind, Walter?" Nikita's holding her bag of food up and eyeing the takeout Scott had brought.

He flashed them a wide smile that deepened the dimple on his peppery stubbled chin. "I couldn't make up my mind."

It was a lie. Scott could tell by the quick jump in the beat of Walter's heart. Something had spooked Walter.

"Plus I wanted to see the both of you, you guys always make my day."

"It's almost midnight... Walter."

Nikita was ruthless, going for the proverbial jugulars, and giving Walter no room to budge. Once again, Scott couldn't blame her. She wasn't stupid, she knew people were keeping secrets from her, and reacted as such.

"Look, I hardly get to see the two of you. Can't blame an old man for bringing two of his favorite people together?"

She was still unmoved, handing the brown paper bag of food to Walter, who brought her in one more time to plant a kiss on the top of her head. "That's really sweet, but i'm feeling sleep deprived."

"Yeah, I have a test I need to cram for." Scott was feeling weariness in his bones, still trying to wrap his mind on how they could free Jackson from his curse.

Walter's heavy hands had yet to leave their shoulders, almost fearful of letting go. "I just want to make sure the two of you are okay and safe. Especially with all the animal attacks going on. I think seeing both of your faces really helped ease my worries."

This time he wasn't lying. Walter's feelings were genuine, he cared about the both of them.

"Thanks, you don't have to worry about us, we'll be careful." Scott choosing words to help Walter relax. If Walter only knew exactly what Scott was involved in.

The hospital was bustling once again, Walter looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't needed at the moment. But someone always seemed to need him.

His attention returned to the both of them. The heavy bags that rested beneath his eyes seemed to smooth themselves out when his smile returned, the warmth of his heart radiating to encompass both of them. "The two of you make me proud, get home safely."

Nikita gave a half wave with a muttered goodbye before turning around to head out the door. Scott leaving Walter with a gracious smile and handing over the food. Before he could turn Walter had grabbed the back of his hoodie.

"Gerard Argent was here earlier. I don't trust him Scott. He's not a good person. So please be careful, especially around him."

The Beta turned slowly to look at Walter, make sure what he had heard was correct. Had Walter known about Gerard's true intentions? His secret life and the blood collected on his hands? There was a stillness in Walter, waiting for Scott to ask these questions out loud. That is until one of the nurses barged through the doors leading to the Operation Rooms, asking for him right away.

"Take care of yourself." Walter said one last time before taking off.

Scott blinked widely, a plethora of questions streaming through his mind. The strongest urge to check up on Nikita came over him, like his senses were screaming 'DANGER!' He ran out the double doors to find her crossing the parking lot. Scott ran over to her, startling her when he pulled up beside her.

"What the hell!?" Nikita digging through her purse, looking like she was ready to bulldoze him.

"Did you want a ride home?" So this was what Stiles felt like when he was speaking to Nikita? Words loosely strung together falling out of his mouth.

Her thick brows pressed together above her nose, her eyes scanning the parking lot. "You don't have a car…"

Of course. It felt like the right thing to say, offering her a ride, but he had no car, just like rusty bike. "Oh." Was all he could say, trying to think of where this could go next.

"Uhm...I do." Nikita clicked on her car remote, lighting up a white mini cooper a few rows from them. "Did you want a ride, Scott?"

He was feeling stupid now, having panicked for no reason. "No...No it's cool, I can bike home."

Scott had mindlessly dragged them back into the thick sludges of awkwardness, doing neither of them a favor.

"Ok, bye." He quickly dismissed her, power walking the hell away from Nikita. He could hear her mutter 'what the fuck.'

It was an eerily silent night, the only sound was the buzzing flickering street lamp above him, threatening to go out any moment. The buzzing of his lights sounded much like the thoughts in his head, everything was jumbled, white noise on top of white noise. He needed rest, a respite, a moment to collect his thoughts so he could sort out all the issues that surrounded he and his friends. Scott walked around the side of the hospital to the bike rack, bending over to open his lock. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the slight sour smell of rot wafted around him. It wasn't just the smell of rot, the smell of someone dying. It was then he sensed a presence right behind him. As soon as he turned around, he felt it. It sliced right through him, sharp and quick into his gut, causing Scott to hunch over.

A silver dagger lodged itself into his abdomen, cutting through Scott like he was made of butter. Gerard held the dagger with a steady gloved hand, a slight smile on his face.

"You really think I didn't know?" The old man chuckled.

A chain of blood and saliva hung in the corner of Scott's mouth as he tried to spit out a

sentence. Gerard twisted the knife, searing his insides.

"I'll keep you alive for now, I need you to do me a favor."

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

' _Are you scared, Nikita Grace?"_

 _Her head shook, lolling side to side as the room continued to spin, her vision swallowing her into total void-black._

 _Her Angel wanted to know._

 _His halo so beautiful, the beauty of it was only easement in this time._

 _If she answered wrong would she be denied from heaven? Was this already a hell? Where her body laid broken like a glass figurine placed in rough hands. Where she couldn't escape, she couldn't move an inch. Where she was terrified and bleeding out in the most excruciating slow pace, her suffering prolonged, her suffering...she needed to be put out._

 _Then his hand came to clamp over her nose and mouth, squeezing until air escaped her._

She let out a sharp gasp, causing her back to arch as if the air was being squeezed out of her very lungs. Fingers of pale morning light streaked through the trees and washed over her body. She looked to her hands, they were sullied with dirt. She had expected a silver quarter to be placed on her eyes or in the palm of her hand. But it was nowhere to be found, whoever was playing jokes on her before seemed to be done with their sick twisted little game. Nikita was back, in the middle of the woods. It had been exactly a week since she had last woken Here. The nightmares were constant, the same haunting voice asking her:

'Are you scared, Nikita Grace?'

Whoever he was brought her comfort, peace and terror at once. All conflicting feelings, she couldn't even begin to explain.

Her hands blindly searched around her, expecting to feel the damp bed of dead rotting leaves beneath her, crystals of dew resting on blades of grass. Instead, it was dirt, and only dirt. Nikita sat up to look at her surroundings. While she was surrounded by trees, she sat on a bald patch of land. A few shoots of grass grew on the earthy mound she sat upon, it was a small island of brown amongst the green grass.

Nikita wasn't sure of her location.

Someone -whoever had been taunting her this entire time- had taken the effort to lay out five quarters in a row right before her feet. Ensuring she would see them. Her eyes followed the line until it reached the last quarter, upon it rested something she had thought to have lost.

Nikita picked up what was a tear dropped faux pearl earing. Just one, single, missing the other. She held it between her dirty fingers, recalling the last time she had seen it. Remembering it was the last thing she put on before heading out the door...the night of Winter formal.

A sickening trickle of ice ran down her spine and she quickly got up to her feet, looking around to see if the perpetrator was still here. Nikita was thoroughly freaked out now, and wanted to get the hell out. She walked through the woods, only a few trees past and she came upon a familiar sight. The tree house was well above her, she recognized the tree house, understanding that she was now standing on private property.

Whoever planted the quarters wanted her here.

It was the backyard of the Jones house.

From here she could hear muffled shouts coming from inside the house. Nikita wasn't sure if she wanted to run to Jonesy and find comfort there, run back home, or curl up in a ball and cry. Instead her always curious nature took over as she found herself drawn to their back door. Her bare feet padded silently across the dirt and onto the wooden porch, where it creaked the slightest. Nikita dared to come to the wooden door, which was already ajar. She pushed it, opening it more, but not enough to peer inside. She could hear Jonesy and Alex going at it.

"Own up to what you did!" The boom in Jonesy's voice making Nikita jump, she forgot that he too could get angry.

"What I did!? I did you a favor!" Alex shouted back, and while he was loud, his voice had more control to it, less anger.

"Then go through with it, you can't just leave her hanging! She's lost, she's confused, she's terrified as hell!"

Jonesy's voice seemed to be getting louder by the moment.

"Go through with it!? And then what!? Get stuck in this shit hole town forever? Be a babysitter for the rest of my life?"

Nikita pushed the door the slightest with two fingers, hoping to hear more of the conversation.

Who were they talking about, and why were they so heated?

"It'll happen eventually..." Jonesy warned.

"I'm taking my sweet time." Alex replied in a cold voice.

"Enough!" Jonesy shouted. " Maybe I'll find Nikita, drag her kicking and screaming, and bring her to you."

Nikita's eyes widened with fear, were her ears deceiving her? Jonesy's voice had been so cold, so full of anger she could feel the icy hands of fear caressing her back, sending goosebumps to the surface of her skin; as if Jonesy's voice itself were touching her. Jonesy had just threatened her, is this who he was behind closed doors?

Alex let out a chuckle. "Yeah, you can lead a horse to water- She's not going down without a fight."

"I'll knock her out if I have to, whatever it takes." Jonesy replied cooly, bringing an end to their argument.

She could only stare at the door in shock, unable to move from where she was standing. Her left hand coming to her mouth, to suppress the scream that was caught in the back of her throat. Her right hand still held her long lost earring, trembling in her hands. She could feel tears forming, blurring her vision. Never had she been so confused, was Jonesy playing her this entire time? Getting close to her in order to harm her? Why would he harm her? He was her friend. She didn't know who to trust anymore. It seemed that everyone in her life was keeping a secret from her, the only person who stood in her corner was Lydia. Unless she was aiming to deceive her as well.

Nikita jumped as the door opened. Out stepped Alex, unlit cigarette hanging off the corner of his lip, lighter in hand. The sight of Nikita caused his dark brows to furrow together under the mess of light sandy hair on his head. His mouth was hung slightly ajar, the cigarette threatening to fall out of his mouth. He seemed just as taken aback as Nikita. His cold blue eyes studied her, taking in her frightened expression, her stiff body language. He scratched his head wondering what she was doing here...Again.

"How much did you hear?" He asked in a stern voice. Nikita was nothing more than an annoyance to him.

"I-I" She couldn't even form a coherent sentence as she stumbled over her words.

She was terrified, and Alex could see it. Although his exterior was prickly, his voice was soft and somewhat comforting. It was easy for him to wrap her in his silken tone, use his dimples to bring down walls. He was charming and he knew it, but so were many infamous serial killers.

Nikita couldn't help but to back away from him, she went down a step on the porch.

Alex pulled out the cigarette and rolled it between his thumb and index finger, loosening the tobacco before placing it between his full lips and lighting it. He closed his eyes and took a long drag, exhaling the smoke from his nostrils. He seemed to relish the bitter flavor of tobacco rolling across his tongue. The world was silent around them, all Nikita could hear was the sound of her heart beating like a drum.

What was Alex waiting for?

His eyes opened, crystaline waters, cold like the Arctics, daring to plunge Nikita in.

"Tell you what, Jailbait. You tell no one about what you heard, and I promise not to tell anyone that you've been sleep walking again. We'll never speak of this. Now hurry along."

An ultimatum of sorts. She couldn't process what was happened, or what was happening. All she got from their argument was that Jonesy was a traitor.

Before Nikita could say a word Jonesy stepped outside. His backpack slung over one shoulder, he was headed out for school. Alex let out an annoyed sigh, sinking his face into his right hand. He had tried to hurry Nikita out before Jonesy discovered her.

Jonesy's brows almost reached his hairline as he caught sight of Nikita who stood disheveled and terrified. "Niki! Are you okay?"

That was the Jonesy she knew, the one who was genuinely concerned and strived to be a great friend. It came so effortlessly to him, being friendly. But she didn't know him anymore, or what his true agenda was.

She could only stare with a vacant expression and blink. For half a heartbeat a calmness fell on the three of them. Her eyes averted Jonesy and instead focused on the grains in the wooden porch. It hurt to even look at him, she had believed he was her friend, but he was a pretender like everyone else. One who wanted to bring harm to her. Jonesy held out his hands like she was a wild animal who could lash out at him, he slowly approached her with caution.

"Niki, it's me, it's just me." He reminded her. Perhaps he had learned some charm from his older brother, the power to disarm was second nature to him.

She wanted Jonesy back.

But he was gone now.

Alex took another drag, his lips pulled into a smug grin around his cigarette as his eyes darted between Nikita and Jonesy, he already knew how this would pan out.

Nikita tore her gaze off the ground and looked up at the two of them, a dark flicker of hatred swirled in her green eyes. They had seen it, and stilled upon her gaze. The pearl earring dropped to the floor, on the last step. In a blink Nikita bolted, ran off the porch. Her legs pumped hard when her bare feet hit the ground. Jonesy, who had frozen upon despair, dropped his backpack on the floor and ran after her, his feet pounded into the ground right behind Nikita, she could feel his steady rhythm.

Alex, still wearing his smile, ran to the edge of the porch and gripped the bannister. He leaned over the bannister like a child and shouted in a sing song voice.

" **Keep running Nikita!** "

Jonesy was right on her tail, shouting after her, hand outstretched trying to get a hold of her, perhaps explain what she had heard.

"Nikita! Wait!" He called after her as she sped up.

She heard his voice fade as she entered the mouth of the woods, getting lost in the dense thickets. Jonesy could have kept running if he wanted to, running after her would only terrify Nikita more. He had done enough damage already. Alex however was almost doubled over in stitches, finding it hard to keep in his laughter.

Jonesy kicked a pile of leaves into a flurry with frustration, letting out a sharp huff of air.

It was then Alex noticed the earing, bending over to pick it up. And now genuine confusion and aggravation had taken over his hysterics. He was no longer laughing. Instead, Alex held up the pearl earring, Jonesy reluctantly approaching the porch.

"Care to explain?" Alex asked while examining the earring, his inquisitive stare burning through Jonesy. He didn't understand the importance of the earring.

"Care to fuck off?" Jonesy moved past him, bumping shoulders with Alex, retreating back into the home.

* * *

She was on edge the entire day, her body so tense it was starting to ache. Nikita was skittish and paranoid. Her heart rate had been high all day, she swore she could jump out of her skin. Jonesy was nowhere to be seen since this morning, it seemed he never showed up to school; for that she was thankful. His words had penetrated her deep and left a seed of fear inside her, she couldn't help but to constantly check over her shoulder.

And then there was her stomach. It had been more vocal than ever. The insidious monster which lurked in the pits of her stomach was constantly gnawing at her walls, begging to be fed, but never to be satiated. The only thing that seemed appetizing these days were the cupcakes, but now she was over the idea of eating those. She closely associated them to Jonesy, and she wanted nothing to do with him.

The day was coming to an end, and Nikita was walking to her locker to pull out her art supplies. When a sudden flash blinded her sight for a moment. Her heart rate spiked, she even found herself gripping her drawing pencils as if they were knives.

Nikita heard a warm boisterous laugh, and once her hazy vision and the dancing spots behind her eyes cleared she saw Matt standing before her. Smile on his face and camera in hand.

She was neither excited nor dreading his presence. Nikita wanted to be alone, but also was afraid of being alone. A dilemma she couldn't even begin to explain, much like every damn aspect of her life.

"Do you have to take candids?" Nikita said breathlessly, still calming the tremors in her body.

"I'm sure I look atrocious."

Matt waited alongside her as he studied the photo he had just taken. An enchanted smile appeared on his face. "Far from it actually. And yes! Candids are a true form of photography, the only way to capture one's raw beauty. And you sure are beautiful."

He playfully elbowed her arm. Nikita could feel a warmth spreading across her cheeks. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt beautiful or confident in her appearances. Any sort of vanity had escaped her, finding her looks to be the least of her problems.

"I'm pretty excited for tonight." Matt confessed.

Nikita froze in her place, she remembered she was supposed to go out with Matt tonight. But she had forgotten they would be attending Jonesy's concert. Her stomach soured just thinking of what she had heard earlier this morning. Matt could see her hesitance and cleared his throat.

"You don't have to go with me if you don't want to, you can-"

And the guilt would be starting again.

"I do!" Nikita interrupted, cutting him mid sentence. " I said I would, and it'll be fun."

She swallowed thickly. Maybe she could stay in the back of the crowd where Jonesy wouldn't see her. It was sure to be crowded tonight, half the high school was talking about the show.

"Alright, but we're going as friends, so keep your hands to yourself." Matt quipped. It seemed he was still stuck on the same one track joke.

"I'll try my best." Nikita quipped back forcing a laugh, and turning her attention to her locker to swap out her books. Matt hung with her there for a while, talking about track and field, and how he had seen her run the courses before.

She let out an exhausted sigh as she pulled out her sketchbook and pencils. The day had been so long, bizarre, and tiring. She just wanted to go home and rest for a little while before going out with Matt. The hall was completely deserted, not a person in sight aside from the two of them. The lack of bustle was eerie yet calming.

She could feel a presence looming behind and Matt going silent, ending his conversation abruptly.

"Careful, Matt. She's not a steady date, she may vanish on you for five days without explanation."

Nikita could see Erica's face reflected in her locker mirror, she didn't even bother to turn around which only grinded at Erica more. Nikita could see her nostrils flaring, blonde hair covering half her face. Matt looked side to side between the two girl, put in a state of awkward confusion.

Erica was relentless and Nikita had a target painted on her back. Since her little transformation it seemed Nikita was her favorite person to pick apart, she wasn't too sure what she had done to upset the blonde in the first place.

Nikita kept her gaze on her own reflection, tousling her hair with her fingers. Anything to drive the point home: Nikita didn't care. "Erica, I don't have time for this."

The sound of heavy running footsteps came towards them, it was Stiles, trying to put out the embers before a fire began.

"Hey girls! Matt!" He was breathless, hunched over and red faced. " We're all late to class, maybe we should go."

"Yeah, yeah we should go." Matt agreeing with Stiles, holding onto the strap of his backpack with sweat dampened hands.

The last two people Nikita wanted even remotely near her were here and now she was beyond peeved. Her day to day life was difficult enough, and here they were making things that much harder. She carefully applied her tinted chapstick, still watching Erica's reflection in the mirror, where they had caught each other's heated gaze.

Nikita's, darker than the evergreens she ran amongst, Erica's only starting to flicker with animosity. Before Erica could utter another word Nikita spoke. She already knew Erica's schtick, she would go after Nikita's mental health, maybe bring up the Eichen House brochures, maybe talk about Nikita starving for attention.

"I'm so proud of you Erica." Nikita started. " You finally discovered how to use a hair brush, and found out what a good push up bra can do. Sadly it's a waste, because no guy wants to fuck a stuck up teen movie cliche like you, especially _him_." Her head nodding to where Stiles stood.

Her lips curled in a smile, that single dimple of hers appearing. For a moment Nikita felt like she had regained herself and her dignity. That scared shaking little girl had vanished to let Nikita's true strength take over, even if it were for a second.

Stiles' jaw dropped to the floor, he looked to Erica, then a freaked out Matt, all three completely baffled by what Nikita had said; shocked that Erica ever had feelings for Stiles in the first place. Before he could utter a single word Erica slammed Nikita's locker shut. With an iron grip Erica grabbed Nikita by the shoulders, spun her around to face them and slammed her against the locker twice. Rattling all the locks and Nikita's head. Erica, although angry, was still mindful of her strength, she could have ended Nikita's life right there and then.

Nikita cringed in pain, letting out a cry. Her eyes squeezed shut as the back of her head throbbed. Erica drew back her fist, winding it to deliver a devastating punch.

"Niki!" Stiles shouted her name.

Nikita's eyes flew open at the sound of Stiles' voice, she ducked as soon as Erica's fist came flying, missing Nikita and hitting the locker instead. Denting it where Nikita's head should have been. Nikita, scrappy and faster than they had thought, pivoted behind Erica and delivered a powerful kick into the Beta's back, sending her face first into the locker.

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, if it were long enough he would have been pulling it out. The situation had escalated so fast, there was no stopping this trainwreck.

"Niki, get behind me." Stiles ordered, offering himself as a human shield against Erica. While Matt seemed to be shrinking back against the lockers, flabbergasted with everything that was going on.

She looked terrified, absolutely terrified by her own actions, unaware she could even move like that. Or exert force like that. "I didn't mean to." Nikita stammered. "I didn't -"

When the blonde Beta turned around, her top lip curled in a snarl, all that was missing were her sharp teeth. A deep cut marked the bridge of her nose, where she had been slammed face first into the locker. Erica tackled Nikita down with such ferocity the two slid across the slick floor. The furious Beta was on top of Nikita, throwing punches left and right. But Nikita was able to block every shot with the palm of her hand. Erica was seething, foaming at the mouth, she wasn't going to stop until Nikita was a bloody pulp. The Beta's anger was brimming so heavily, so much that she lost control for a second, her eyes flashed a golden yellow. Nikita caught in the midst of chaos didn't have a chance to recognize it.

"Erica! Stop!" Stiles shouted as he and Matt tried to pry her off of Nikita, but Erica was unstoppable, far too powerful. Stiles worried Erica was actually going to kill Nikita, who was struggling to keep up.

Nikita's hands were turning raw from taking multiple punches, she was starting to tire out, unable to hold her hands up in the air. But she was starting to tire Erica out as well, who was caught in a frenzy, expensing her energy while conflicting no damage. For a second it looked like Nikita could possibly come out on top of this. That is until Erica grabbed both of Nikita's hands and effortlessly pinned them down with her knees, leaving Nikita completely defenseless. She had to think of something...turn this situation around fast.

"Erica! Don't!" Stiles shouted once more as the Beta pulled back her fist. He and Matt so desperate in their attempts to get Erica off of Nikita. He eyed the fire alarm, but it was much too far for his reach.

Nikita sat up, lifting her head with force. It collided with Erica, head butting her square in the face. The Beta rolled off of her with a groan, ribbons of blood seeped through the cracks of her fingers. Nikita however was laying on her back, staring at the fluorescents above her. The epicenter of the dull throb in her forehead growing stronger and larger, it hurt. Her hand came to rub at the spot, feeling the skin there starting to swell already. She licked at her smooth lips, tasting the salt and copper. Her chest was rapidly rising and falling as she was out of breath, out of strength. Yet, somehow, a smile managed to find itself on her face.

"H-holy shit." Was all she could manage to say

She could feel the slow surge of adrenaline building up within her. It felt like she had taken her first breath of life. This rush of violence and excitement undiscovered and untouched until now. It swam through her veins, awakening every slumbered sense in her. The sight of Erica on the floor, cradling her nose, the sight of blood, so vibrant against the dull grey floors. The sight of it all was enticing, and to know that she did that? She caused that sort of damage? Nikita wanted more, she wasn't done with Erica...not yet, she wanted to see more blood. Suddenly it shot through her like a bolt and she was up on her feet again. She lunged at Erica who was still on the floor, but a pair of strong hands held her back.

It was Isaac.

"Hey, Hey!" He shouted, holding her back, she was still trying to get at Erica.

Nikita was filled with animal like rage, a rage that almost blinded her. She was seething, how dare Erica lay a hand on her, how dare everyone treat her like this? Betray her like this? Isaac pulled her back once more, he was strong, but gentle enough to calm her down.

"Niki, look at me." He demanded, yet his voice soft and calm.

He pitied her.

She hated him.

The rage in her -now that it poured over- had subsided. Nikita couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes for the sudden shame she felt was weighing down on her. Instead she searched for something similar, something comforting. Her eyes found Stiles, they looked at her with neither judgement or fear, instead they were apologetic, warm, understanding.

"Wow." Matt breaking the terse silence, helping Erica off the floor.

Just then Mr. Harris stormed out of his class, a herd of students behind him.

"What is this!? Are you kidding me!?" His face red and shaking, the vein on his sweaty forehead starting to throb. "Detention, ALL OF YOU!"

* * *

If you read this chapter please leave me love, or constructive crits. Both are appreciated and needed for this uphill battle. Thank you so much and I can't wait for the drama of the next chapter!


	32. Chapter 32

YET another update!

Big shoutouts to: Ferallahey, Peachy, Survivor girl, pretty pink, wrecklessyouthinme, and Itbelongsinamuseum, Thank you guys so so much for leaving me such lovely detailed reviews omg. Also to all of the people who have been trying to catch up to this story, if you're reading this now, give yourselves a pat on the back. I know this is a verrrry slow build story, and there are lots of chapters to read. I appreciate it!

This was such a fun chapter to write guys! I really think you'll all enjoy this!

And once again, if you haven't, please check out Thehourofthegloaming on tumblr to see all the beautiful edits my readers and friends have made me, my edits, character bios, questions and answers, and music I've selected!

* * *

He was still shaken as he followed Erica downstairs, towards where the locker rooms were. And away from everyone else. The cut across the bridge of her nose had completely healed now, fresh skin and no sight of blood. Erica was marching off in anger, Stiles was barely on her tail. He wanted to make sure she was okay after what had happened, and see if he could perhaps calm her; worried Erica would go after Nikita again.

No one really understood what had happened, the comprehension lost upon them.

"What the hell was that about? What are you going to do when Derek finds out you attacked Nikita!?"

It was a serious question. While Derek did a semi decent job at pretending he didn't care for Nikita, everybody -aside from Nikita- knew the truth. She mattered to him, more than most people. For those who believed Derek only had a tough exterior would never truly know how he melted around Nikita. There was no telling how Derek would react to something like this.

She turned around fast, blonde hair whipping the side of her face. Her fingers scrunched the material of Stiles' white shirt and she pulled him close so he could hear her every word.

"He won't find out." Erica warned, her nails elongated to darkened claws, putting the fear of god into Stiles. The she wolf made it clear, no one was to talk about what had just happened.

Erica let go of Stiles, and he finally let out the breath he was holding in.

"Not like it matters anyways. The only thing Derek cares about is Nikita, I'm already dead to him."

Stiles felt bad for her. She didn't look scared, or worried. But she looked heart broken, a little let down, that bottom lip of hers quivering. Something told Stiles that Erica had been let down before. Stiles looked side to side to make sure the hall was empty, that it was just the two of them.

"Can I ask you why you hate her?"

He swore his life was going to end right then and there when she froze, her expression hardening before dissolving. Erica's arms crossed over her chest….she looked so vulnerable then. He never expected her to actually answer the question.

"I don't hate her." Her words soft spoken but disguised in a mumble. "I just… You were the first boy to be nice to me. You were always nice to me. When you looked at me...it was like you were truly looking at me, and not through me. I was Erica to you, not the invisible girl who only gets attention when she has seizures."

Stiles understood the slightest what she was talking about. While Stiles never had to deal with what Erica had to deal with, her past struggle was something he would never understand , he knew the kids at this school were cruel. The students here were bored, cooped up in a small town where usually nothing happened, picking people apart seemed to be their favorite way to pass the time until they could get out.

"When Nikita entered the picture you stopped looking at me, completely." Erica couldn't seem to meet Stiles' sympathetic gaze. " Then Derek promised me so many great things, I didn't know the price to pay would be living in Nikita's shadow, constantly. Nikita is just another Lydia Martin. She comes from a wealthy family, has all the best clothes, her hair is always perfect, her fuck ups are called adorable quirks. She's had everything handed to her, always."

"And now she has nothing." Stiles pointed out.

He didn't mean to shame Erica, but she was starting to shift in her place, guilt written across her face. Perhaps it was now she was starting to realize that none of this was Nikita's doing.

"Yeah.." Erica actually agreeing. "Maybe the men are to blame in this picture."

It felt like someone had slapped Stiles in the face with a cold fish, he blinked for a moment trying to grasp her words. How did this turn around on HIM? "Wh-what?"

Erica shook her head, taking a step closer to Stiles who took a step back. "You boys are so stupid, always stuck in denial. How are you guys so blind to everything when it comes to Nikita? What is with you and Derek? What are you trying to do? Preserver her innocence? Preserve her for who she was before Winter Formal?"

"What are you talking about?" Stiles always had Nikita's best interest.

"She survived a fall, she survived five days on her own with no resources. She held her own against me just moments ago! How do you idiots possibly believe she's still human!?"

Everything Erica spoke of was true.

Stiles had seen the sudden strength Nikita possessed. He thought that maybe she had gotten a rush of adrenaline and that's where all that power came from. Kind of like the story of that woman whose child was pinned beneath a car, and she lifted it without breaking a sweat. Even if it were true, no girl of Nikita's stature and thin frame could do such a thing, tackle down a Beta werewolf. The question of Nikita being supernatural was like a scab on Stiles' knee. He would constantly pick at it, causing it to bleed over and over. Or at times he would leave it be, ignoring it completely hoping it would just go away on its own.

It was impossible ignore.

Instead the idea of Nikita being more than human got lost between the thickness of the constant pandemonium that surrounded him. There were bigger things that unfortunately came before Nikita. At the moment it was the death of several citizens. And Stiles absolutely refused to believe she had any part in this. As long as Nikita was safe, unharmed, away. He could keep her there, until it was time for them to figure out what was going on with her.

"I get what you're saying, Erica. But at the end of the day we have no solid proof of Nikita being anything. You've smelled her, she smells human."

Erica was dissatisfied with Stiles' answer, dissatisfied with most things these days. "Do you and Derek truly believe you're protecting her? Because from where i'm standing, you two are inflicting the most damage on her."

Just then the doors to the locker room burst open with Jackson's body sliding across the floor. Out walked an outraged Scott, Allison right behind him.

They could hear heavy footsteps frantically descending down the stairs, lo and behold it was Mr. Harris who seemed to have impeccable timing.

"Again!? What is wrong with you teenagers!?" Mr. Harris shouted.

* * *

\- Nikita's pov-

Nikita sat stiff in the wooden seat, her attention plastered on her sketchbook while she practiced drawing horses. Truth be told she hated horses. They were creepy, alien looking, and one tried eating her hair when she was a child. But this would keep her busy, keep her mind off of things. However frustrations were starting to build, how did the horse she was drawing end up looking like a cow? She gripped her charcoal pencil and began madly and forcefully scribbling across the page, any faster and perhaps the friction could create a fire. Matt and Jackson -who she sat between- exchanged mortified looks while Nikita destroyed her page.

She didn't dare lift her gaze. Being in detention with an ex was bad enough, being in detention with two exes was like a shitty romantic comedy minus the romance and the comedy, and all the shit piled on her. This was a fucking tragedy, and she wanted out.

Even worse, Erica was sitting only a few tables away from her. Nikita couldn't bring herself to look at her. She felt shame, she felt confusion, unable to explain what had happened earlier. She let the anger consume her, unleashing something inside. She wanted to let it free, whatever it was. She wanted the catharsis, the anger in her wanting to break through the surface once more.

Everyone and their mother was here, Scott, Allison, Jackson, Stiles, Erica, Isaac, Matt, and Jackson. Mr. Harris approached the library, his face devoid of any sort of emotion, for he was stuck with all of them too.

Nikita put her sketchbook away when the rest of her detention mates got up, ready to leave. She was ready to go home and cocoon herself in her fluffy blanket and never emerge.

The chemistry teacher let out a mocking laugh "You guys aren't going anywhere, not until you reshelve every book in this library. Have fun."

They all let out a groan in unison. No one wanted to be here. She swore Mr. Harris was getting off on this.

Nikita carefully took the returned books out of the trolley and found their appropriate spots. Allison was in the same book aisle as her. Neither of them cared to speak, just going about their business. There was no animosity between her and Allison, although their friendship had been tumultuous at times. Mainly stemming from Allison's borderline sociopathic family members, like that arsonist aunt of hers.

A faded orange textbook had caught her attention amidst a pile of books gathered by her feet. Nikita picked it up to see it was a first edition psychology textbook. Judging by the cover, a group of kids gathered in front of the bulkiest desktop computer ever, it had to be from the 80's. She turned her back to Allison, giving her privacy, and skimmed through the book. The musty and antiquated smell of old pages was something she delighted in, her toes curling in her shoes. The images in the textbook were much more horrendous than the cover, so much bright lipstick, shoulder pads and mullets.

Her attention caught for a moment on a list of famed series killers, but only out of interest and curiosity. Onto the next few pages where she stopped to read the symptoms and causes of post traumatic stress . . . her dive over Suicide Hill and the red eyed Were-beast had been nothing short of traumatic. And things had gotten progressively worse for her since then.

But it wasn't until she came to Schizophrenia that she stopped. Nikita wasn't sure exactly what drew her to that psychosis but her hands immediately started to shake. The entry was rather small, with only a brief summary of the disorder listed in blue bullet points. The words themselves seemed to grab her from the cream colored water damaged pages.

Schizophrenia, it said, was characterized by abnormal social behavior and a failure to recognize what is real. Common symptoms included false beliefs, unclear of confused thinking, isolation, auditory hallucinations, reduced social and or emotional expression as well as inactivity. Lethargy.

Nikita immediately recognized a few of those traits in herself. Heat prickled the surface of her cheeks and across her scalp. This was the equivalent of looking up symptoms on WebMD and now a panic had fanned in her mind. She swallowed thickly before shutting the textbook; garnering Allison's attention.

"Are you alright Nikita?" Allison drew nearer to her friend.

What a loaded question, Allison already knew the answer, it was clear on Nikita's sunken face.

"Y-yeah." Nikita quickly put the book away, trying to brush off the new information. She looked up to see cameras blinking at them. Beacon Hills was feeling more like a prison than a school these days.

"Yeah i'm fine."

"This one's a good one, if you're interested." Allison held up a small yellow paperback book, her dimples appearing with her friendly smile. So often there was a threshold between the two girls, one that was hard for each of them to cross. This was Allison's gentle attempt in crossing it.

"It's about a woman who doesn't have the capacity to feel fear."

"What a lucky girl." Nikita wanted to know what it would be like to be fearless. She could use a dose or two of courage. How she felt like a coward these past few days, afraid of everything, everyone; finding it difficult and terrifying to even get out of bed. And now she was afraid of the people that once surrounded her. Everyone was out to hurt her.

"I wouldn't call her lucky. It gets her into trouble from time to time." Allison adding.

The intercom in the library went off. "Nikita Grace, please report to the principal's office, Nikita Grace."

"I'm sure it's fine." Allison trying to reassure Nikita, but why did her face look so sympathetic? Like Nikita was about to be the sheep lead to slaughter. Her walk through the library was like a walk of shame, everyone's eyes on her. She and Stiles caught each other's gaze, he helplessly watched her walk out of the library.

Nikita entered the office to see Gerard was over his fake smile. He looked stern and bothered instead. The two were circling each other in a dance of noncompliance. He wouldn't leave her alone, and she would never give him what he wanted.

"Nikita, my dear, how have you been?"

'My dear.'

She absolutely loathed when he would use those words on her. There was no affection between them, no mutual respect, she couldn't even stand his face. Hearing those words made her want to gag. Immediately she felt repulsed, he had a natural talent at that. She was going to do whatever it took to get out of his office fast. Nikita readied herself for yet another round of questions.

"Why am I here?" She deadpanned, refusing to sit this time.

His grin slid off of his face as he seated himself on the desk, in front of Nikita. His bony liver spotted hand rested on her arm, his skin was paper thin, pulled loosely across his bones; he looked more frail than she did. A gust of wind could blow him away.

" Not one for warm greetings, are we?" He asked her.

Her eyes were burning holes onto his bony hand that was still gripped around her arm. He noticed her venom like stare and removed his hand without question.

She said " Let me make this easy for you, I don't know anything, I don't remember anything about that night."

A lie.

Her hand traveled to the back of her head, expecting to feel the raised and puckered skin of the scar that had once marked her. It had vanished the night of the skating rink date with Stiles.

Gerard's lip tightened as he breathed heavily from his nostrils, clearly agitated with Nikita's impudence. He could see through her lie and she wasn't ready to cooperate.

"Then figure it out." He said calmly.

" Figure it out." She repeated with a mocking laugh. Nikita didn't dare move an inch, she couldn't if she wanted to. Her body felt so heavy with exhaustion. "If only it were that easy."

Gerard looked to her, a twinkle of amusement in his onyx eyes "I'll make it easy for you, starting next week you'll be visiting Mrs. Morell every day after school. Perhaps she can help you remember."

She could feel the sting of tears forming in the corner of her eyes "That's not fair." She muttered.

Seeing Ms. Morell was always so mentally overwhelming, and now she would go from once a week to every day.

"Ms. Grace, if there's one thing I can tell you about life, is that it's not fair. The sick get sicker, the strong get stronger. And the weak get weeded out fast."

His voice cold and bitter, ingraining a lesson in her head.

She looked away, unable to look at him any longer "Can I go back to detention?" There was no need for her being here.

Gerard fell silent when he seated himself at his desk, eyes were glued to the screen while he watched the Kanima wreck havoc in the school's library. The creature was lightening fast and hideous to be seen, even through the black and white of the recently installed security cameras. He could imagine the sounds it must have been making, the snake like hisses. Gerard had to compose himself, look unbothered, look calm so that the student standing across from him would suspect nothing.

His gaze moved between the Kanima on the screen and Nikita. Living proof standing right before him. He was sure, now. There could be no doubt. Nikita was not the Kanima. The creature was loose in the school. All his theories had gone out the window, none of this made sense.

Gerard took a breath and leaned back in his padded leather chair. "You are excused to go home."

A flicker of surprise passed over Nikita's pale face, but she wasted no time. Grabbing her bag and hightailing it out of there, in case Gerard changed his mind.

* * *

\- Derek's POV-

It had taken Scott and Stiles an hour to convince Derek not to kill Jackson on the spot. If they had gone with his idea it would have taken only a minute to end Jackson, and he would have made sure it was fast and painless for him. Unfortunately Scott was right, it was Derek's bite that had lead Jackson to turn into a monster in the first place. Even Derek had some semblance of empathy. As much as he hated Jackson, Derek did feel guilty for what was happening to him. After devising a plan with Deaton -which included handing a trash bag of mountain ash to Stiles- they all tracked Jackson's location at a warehouse. There they all waited, scoping out the building and the crowd that had gathered, including Nikita and the guy she decided to bring with her.

"Who the hell is that?" Derek said in distaste, his words fogging into the ice cold air. Another lanky looking asshole from what Derek could tell.

"That's Matt." Isaac said in a bored voice as he fidgeted with the ketamine needle. It would be going straight into Jackson's neck, effectively knocking him out.

Derek shook his head in disapproval, he had already made up his mind. "I don't like him."

Judging by Nikita's lack of enthusiasm and forced laughter he could tell she didn't like him much either, not in a romantic way at least. Now he was talking about the importance of carbon footprint, and she was only listening to every other word. Derek could sense the dread coming off of her, if only she had trusted her own instincts and stayed home.

Stiles' head poked in between Derek and Isaac "I don't like him even more!" He hissed.

The Alpha rolled his eyes and pushed Stiles' head away with the palm of his hands. He understood Stiles' jealousy, and if he was being honest with himself he felt terrible for what happened between him and Nikita. He could tell this break up had devastated the both of them, he had taken something good from Nikita… she deserved all the good things in the world .Derek started out despising the idea of Nikita and Stiles together, but now he didn't mind. Stiles was like a barnacle that had attached to him, but over time Derek started to see his true intelligence, a real asset to the team.

"You don't like anyone that goes near her, Stiles." Scott pointed out.

Derek inhaled deeply through his nostrils. More often than not he felt like he was babysitting.

"Why the hell is _she_ here?"

" She's here to watch Jonesy's band, obviously. That's literally why everyone is here." Erica said in an annoyed tone.

Derek remained silent. Erica had approached him earlier about what had happened to her and Nikita. Derek was still processing what Erica had explained to him, he had reserved his anger for compassion instead. Knowing Erica and even the rest of his pack was feeling rather neglected. She was on a sort of probation, staying more quiet than usual.

"You think Jackson will actually be here?" Derek could hear Boyd's soft spoken voice, knowing he was quiet because he was the most observant of the pack.

"If Jonesy is here, then Jackson will most likely be here too." Scott pointed out. "...That's if Jonesy is the Kanima Master…"

"Jonesy." Stiles whispered with enough venom laced in his voice it could knock out the Kanima itself. Derek was wondering if Jonesy and Stiles were mortal enemies, or if this was just Stiles being...Stiles.

"I always knew he was evil. But none of you would listen to me. I'm betting Matt sucks too." Stiles adding his two cents.

Derek rolled his eyes at the immature comments that held no weight or proof. Apparently anyone that interacted with Nikita or happened to stand next to her was thought to be a threat or evil.

"Why Matt?" Isaac humoring Stiles.

" I mean- just- he's." Derek could hear the whipping of Stiles' hands through the air as he tried and failed with desperation to find some sort of excuse. "Look at his face. Like the lovechild of Norman Bates and Dick Cheney."

"What kind of a name is Jonesy? Who is this kid? Have I seen him before?" Derek asked Erica as he crossed his arms over his chest.

She stepped beside him. "It's his last name, he made it into his first name." She shrugged. "I think it's kind of cute considering he's adopted. Like he's taking ownership of his family."

"I think it's kind of stupid and overdone if you ask me." Stilinski piping in yet again.

"Shut up Stiles!" All three of them, Derek, Erica, and Isaac shouting at him.

"He's our suspect for the Kanima's master." Scott reminded them "But we have no evidence, and can't figure out why Jonesy would want to kill all those people."

"It's him, I know it." Stiles muttered behind them. "I can feel it. He's not normal."

Derek nodded "Right. Boyd, Stiles, and I will patrol outside. Stiles has the mountain ash."

Stiles held up a black plastic trash bag. "Got the magic fairy dust covered."

Isaac held up a rather large silver needle. "I've got this sucker ready and loaded."

Derek's eyes scanned the crowded line, it was starting to wrap around the building. A deep shudder ran through him when he spotted the stark white words 'HATE'. Alex was here. He watched him walk across the parking lot, cigarette between his lips. Alex's gun-metal gaze instantly picked Derek out amongst the rest. That smile Derek hated so much showed up on Alex's face, that stupid smile like he knew all the secrets to the universe.

Alex walked up to them, wordless, but those eyes were judging every inch of Derek. Without having to say it, Alex was asking Derek why he was hanging out with a bunch of kids. And now the Alpha was seething at the mere sight of him. Alex right away noticed the large trash bag Stiles was holding onto, and Isaac did a poor job of hiding the rather terrifying needle behind his back. Derek stepped up to Alex, annoyed how Alex was a hair taller than him, but a few years younger.

Everyone around him had silenced.

He felt Isaac and Erica pull away, shrinking back behind their Alpha. They could see the calm and serene on Alex's surface, but feel the pent up spite filled energy hiding deep within him. His hatred of Derek, sharper than a razor's edge...it had intimidated his Betas.

"What do you want?" Derek holding back a growl.

Alex pulled out his cigarette, letting it rest between his middle and forefinger. "I actually had something witty to say. But seeing you, here, with your...friends." His head tracing an arc to motion those who stood behind Derek. "It's borderline painful. So I best be on my way before the second hand humiliation debilitates me."

If only Alex knew what Derek could truly do to him, devestate him, rip him apart, end his worthless little life. The Alpha was almost salivating at the thought of his teeth clamped around Alex's neck.

"That thing will kill you." Derek said, eying the cigarette Alex held onto. While the cigarette could kill Alex, Derek knew it would be...other circumstances that would lead to Alex's death.

Alex took an exponentially long drag, filling his lungs with smoke, relishing in it to prove a point to Derek. He then let out a puff of smoke right into Derek's face, it clouded thickly around his head so that all he could see was Alex. He was shaking with rage now, feeling his teeth drawing out to sharp points inside his mouth, before sinking back in. He couldn't reveal himself, not in such a public place like this.

Alex shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I'll see you on To Catch a Predator."

He then gave a few soft taps to the side of Derek's face. "You do have a face for Television."

That was it.

Derek lunged forward at Alex, if it weren't for Isaac, Boyd, and Scott holding him back he would have shredded through the idiot, put that cigarette right out in his eye. Every instinct of his was going haywire, the wolf in him begging for carnage.

"I swear I'll kill you Alex!" Derek still caged by the arms holding onto him. The blonde bastard hardly even flinched.

Alex flashed a devil may care smile, his dimples appearing for a moment. With that he flicked his lit cigarette at Derek's boots. His only response was a chuckle, before turning around and entering the warehouse.

After a few seconds had passed and Derek's anger had just begun to dissipate, the three Betas finally let go of him, trusting he wouldn't do any damage. They said nothing although they were ready with a barrage of questions. Alex Jones had struck a chord with all of them and his name would be on their tongues all night. The sudden and sweet scent of allure, intrigue, and arousal hung in the air, wafting directly off of the perpetrator. It was so thick, it had infiltrated his senses to take up space in his brain.

Everyone turned to look at a flushed Erica. Even in the darkness Derek could see her pupils dilated with lust.

"Oh...Wow." Was all she could say as she watched Alex walk away, taking one good look at his behind in those form fitting Levi Jeans.

A collective groan was let out, all the boys stepping away from Erica as if she had let out a fart. He could hear them all bickering now, Erica telling all the boys to shut up or she'll knock out all their teeth. Derek sunk his face into his hands.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

* * *

\- Nikita's POV-

She and Matt walked into the dark and smokey venue, people were already crowding in front of the stage. Near the stage was the last place Nikita wanted to be, it would mean she would have to be close to Jonesy, and just thinking about him made her stomach churn.

Matt was staring past her, towards the bar, with a slack-jawed expression. Clearly ogling at someone else.

Nikita turned to see Alex was all the way in the back, by the bar. A blonde woman, about his age or perhaps older was next to him. She had wrapped her deep mauve lips around his middle finger, pulling it back and forth in her mouth slowly, simulating something much much dirtier. Alex on the other hand was unimpressed by her raunchy display. Perhaps he had taken pleasure in it moments ago, but not he was over it. Instead of giving her attention he was scrolling through his cell phone, the white glow of it illuminating his classically handsome face. This only seemed to make her work harder. Until Alex pulled his finger out to wipe it on her shirt, getting her saliva and lipstick on her crisp white blouse. Alex withdrew his finger and went back to texting, all without lifting his eyes off his phone.

"I would love to walk a mile in his shoes." Matt sighed with longing and admiration for Alex.

Alex tore his gaze off his phone, something had sparked his interest. He looked up, his eyes finding Nikita's, even with the crowd between them. He was aware of her presence, having picked it up even in the massive sea of bodies. She suddenly turned around, not wanting to be caught looking at him.

Alex creeped her out as much as Jonesy did.

Matt had caught the stare and turned to look at Nikita, his face distorted in question. He never got a chance to ask what that was when Allison walked up to them. She pulled in Nikita for a one armed hug, her smile brightening the room.

The crowd was growing thicker and thicker by the moment, people getting ready for the show tonight.

"Where is Lydia?" Her friend asked "I thought she was coming to see Jonesy play."

Nikita's lip quirked to the side while she took in their surroundings. The club was full of different kinds of people, even the unsavory kind. And everything here smelled of beer.

"You really thought Lydia would show up to a place like this?"

In fact Lydia had asked for a mental day, refusing to show up to school that day. It was for the best, this place was not Lydia's scene at all, and the crowd could be overwhelming. Nikita shouldn't have been here either. There were so many people here, and she was feeling constantly on edge.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Allison's smile never wavering.

Nikita could see the pity and apprehension behind Allison's doe eyes, she was trying so hard all while standing on the other side of the line drawn between them. This awkward back and forth of theirs would be never ending. Nikita's smile matched Allison's for a second, she too would try, from a safe distance.

Then the lights cut out.

The audience went insane, pushing as much as they could to get close to the stage, screaming with excitement. She could feel the heat rising off the bodies as they were crammed together, and suddenly she too was feeling hot.

She felt Allison's hand squeeze hers, that pitying look had turned to one of uncertainty. Allison, always so confident and resolute looked nervous.

"Nikita." She said.

Nikita's eyes however went past Allison's shoulders to the door, where she could see Scott, Isaac, and Erica walking in. The crowd seemed to part for them, or perhaps they were all intimidated by Erica's cold dead stare and runway debut walk; it was like this girl traveled with her own fan to blow her hair.

"I need you to stay safe tonight, if anything happens...Run."

Nikita's gaze ripped off of Scott and company, and went back to Allison, why was she speaking such madness, with such importance? Did Allison have something to fear?

"What-What are you talking about?" Nikita asked, her voice growing louder as the crowd continued to shout and cheer, growing impatient for the band.

Allison gave Nikita another pleasant smile. Trying to warm her and dissolve any worries. "I've heard Jonesy's concerts can get really rowdy and rough, I just want you to be careful."

Nikita was far from convinced by Allison's excuse. But before she could say anything she felt an arm come around her shoulder, Matt.

"No worries, I'll make sure this one stays out of trouble."

Allison was convinced enough, waving a small goodbye before going to the back of the venue, to meet up with Scott.

She hesitantly followed Matt through the crowd, still wanting to avoid Jonesy. Nikita turned to see Scott and Allison in the middle of a heated argument. The two of them had kept their relationship a secret for some time now, and now it was blowing up in their faces. She felt fingers lace in hers, Matt was now pulling her through the crowd, closer and closer to the stage, closer to Jonesy. The lights came back on suddenly, adorning Jonesy and his band in a heavenly blue. She could just see his silhouette towering above them all, the thick fog swirling around his feet. When the music started it felt like a sonic blast rattling every bone in her body. The deeper they went into the crowd, the more aggressive people became. Matt looked behind his shoulder, to her with a wide smile. His lips were moving, but she couldn't hear a single word over the deafening music.

Jonesy was a beast.

A creature she had never seen before. His fingers shredded across his guitar strings like it were made of liquid. Already a man of self-assurance,but now he was like a Rock Star God. Nikita watched him, almost unrecognizable to her. He had ditched a shirt, opting for a ripped denim vest, straight out of Sid Vicious' closet, his skin tight black jeans shredded at the knees. Jonesy was donning black smeared eyeliner, making his bright eyes that much more prominent. Sitting atop his head was a black faded Vans baseball cap, a mess of hair falling past his brows. This was his disguise for an almost alter ego. For while his common nature was the outgoing sort, he was a Tasmanian devil on the stage.

A pair of blue underwear went flying in the air to land directly on the head of the guitar. That's when she really caught a glimpse of the Jonesy she thought she knew. The notion rattled him, his eyes going wide for a second before a very Alex-like smile took to his face. The crowd wanted to devour every part of him, hands reaching out for him. And when he sang with that rich deep voice of his, girls screamed and tried to claw their way to the stage, hoping he would notice them. His band mates who she had never met before were dressed similarly to him, they were cohesive in looks and sound.

Nikita stood on her tip toes and looked over her shoulder, to assess how deep in the crowd they were. Alex was still in the back of the crowd enjoying a drink, but the girl he was with earlier was nowhere to be seen. Bright house lights flickered above him creating a shadow over the hollow of his eyes. Making him even more ominous to her. Nikita turned around and looked up at the stage, Jonesy caught her stare. He gave her a small smile as he sang into the microphone, but Nikita quickly looked away. She didn't want to be anywhere near him, in fact she decided she didn't even want to be here anymore. The pace of the music picked up, sweaty bodies began pushing off each other. Nikita looked to Matt who was being dragged away into the crowd like a current into the ocean. He called her name, but the music drowned him out.

The crowd had turned into a mosh pit , beer spilling everywhere; arms spreading, and then elbows became weapons. Suddenly a rather large frat boy next to her shoved her with such force that Nikita fell to the sticky beer covered floor. Normally Nikita would have managed to keep her balance, but she was weak and exhausted. Nikita let out a cry of pain when someone stepped on her hand, she was seconds from being trampled by the crowd. Her efforts in getting up again were futile. A firm hand wrapped firm and strong around her wrist and pulled her up with ease.

Her mossy eyes widened to see it was Alex. How he managed to to make his way up to the front past a thick crowd so fast was beyond her.

He didn't bother to look at Nikita, instead Alex shoved the one who'd pushed her out of her way. Making sure she had all the space she needed. Drunk, the larger dude knocked over like a domino. Every shred of instinct and basic judgement told her not to trust Alex, to get the hell away from him. He was just as shady as his brother, they both probably had the same deceitful nature and hidden agendas. Nikita's head turned side to side as she desperately looked for an exit plan. But she was amongst the thick of the crowd. Alex's attention turned back to Nikita, his ice cold blue eyes looked as dark as a thunderous sky. She couldn't tell if he was annoyed with her, or annoyed with existence in general as he stared with deeply furrowed eyebrows.

He let go of her arm.

She wanted to run like she did the other day...But he had just helped her when he could have watched her drown in a sea of people. This act seemed almost out of character of him, did he want something in return? Did he feel guilty of something?

A prickle of a hot and cold sensation rolled through her body, causing Nikita to pause. It was as if her body refused to leave, her feet were plastered to the ground next to Alex's. He was still standing next to her as well, Alex could have left, gone back to the bar. Whatever the feeling was had come to an end when the frat boy got up from off the floor and pulled back his fist.

"Alex!" She had screamed to warn him but it only brought his attention back to her.

The uppercut caught him directly under his chin, causing Alex's head to snap back and his knees went to buckle beneath him. A sucker punch he hadn't anticipated.

Alex went stumbling back into the crowd. A net of people catching him. The air filled with "ohhhh!" the crowd went completely wild!

He was stunned, momentarily, angered, his face darkened at once. Alex's predatory gaze had fallen to the large frat boy, one that had penetrated through his drunken haze to cement him in fear. Horror and potent dread swirled in the pits of Nikita's belly, forecasting violence. A genuine and jarring concern for Alex had taken her by surprise. A sudden, unexplainable rage erupted within Nikita Grace. Familiar anger, like when she and Erica had confronted each other last. Protectiveness. An unexplainable primal sense, he had hurt Alex, and now she wanted to hurt him.

There was no time for her to act on instinct when Alex sprung back on his feet. His elbow went flying, a loud crack! Sounded through the crowd, louder than the music itself. The jorts- wearing scum bag fell back with a thud! Alex had gotten him in the jaw, and he had bit down on his tongue at the same time. Blood went flying everywhere, it had sprayed on the surrounding audience, just missing Nikita. The rest of the Frat-goon showed up to help their fallen brother who was on the floor howling in pain, holding his broken flimsy jaw. Ribbons of shockingly vibrant blood seeped between the cracks of his fingers that he held over his mouth. It was hard for her to turn her eyes from such vibrancy, the blood itself almost beautiful,Nikita didn't even flinch at the sight.

Was that a chunk of his tongue on the floor?

Several things happened then that set off a chain reaction that would lead to Alex and Nikita starting a legendary riot that would be talked about at Beacon Hills High for decades to come.

A scream was torn from Nikita's throat a fierce battle cry coming from a girl who resembled Bambi. Without thinking, she sprang on an an undercut-wearing frat boy who was ready to pounce on Alex . Freakishly small hands fisted in the nearest drunk idiot's shirt, fingernails digging through the sweat soaked fabric. The guy she was currently trying to wrangle down had the audacity to laugh at her actions, knowing she was but a frail rag doll.

Two more drunken idiots tried to accost Alex by leaping on him. Nikita only caught glimpses of the chaos between the bodies. Fists were swinging. Beer splattered to the floor to touch her bare legs with their stickiness. More idiots went tumbling through the crowd, shoving into the guys and their girlfriends, spilling drinks, getting their blood everywhere. And this only seemed to upset the crowd around them.

The scent of sweat, beer, and blood was strong in the air, acrid and sour.

Nikita was still on the bozo's back like a rabid spider monkey, her desperate attempt to put him in a choke hold, even though she really had no clue what she was doing. Nikita hadn't though this out, how this could potentially hurt her. He was stumbling through the crowd attempting to tear her off. That's when he unfortunately stumbled in front of Alex who knocked him out with a single punch, and Nikita was finally able to hop off.

Loud, belligerent voices rose up around them, people were pushing each other now. Nikita's heart rate rose with adrenaline and panic, she looked to the only familiar face she could find at the moment. And while she clearly didn't like him, Alex was the only face she knew here. Alex grabbed her arm again, this time to pull her behind him. The crowd was growing rowdy, three different fights were going on, fists cutting through the air in all directions. She was dodging them left and right, a smile curling on her lips. She may have been weak, but she certainly hadn't lost her speed. The music from Jonesy's band had stopped making it feel as if were only her and Alex now, the two of them against everyone.

Where the hell was Jonesy in all of this?

Her and Alex were in the eye of the hurricane, the heart of the riot they had started. A sharp pair of fingers dug into her shoulders, yanking her away from Alex, who was busy trying to fend off more concert goers. She barely had a look at the culprit when she turned around and kneed him in the nuts, and when he doubled over in pain she lifted her knee high. Feeling his nose crack with her devastating blow. While Walter was the one who told her about that move, Nikita never expected to use it, or for it to work.

Another stolen glance towards Alex, a heap of groaning bodies laid at his feet. Aside from the sucker punching dickhead, Alex was completely unstoppable. The blonde motherfucker was barely exerting energy compared to those around him, not even a bead of sweat speckled his perfect face. All his moves were minimal, swiftly dodging punches left and right without batting a thick lash of his. His perpetual annoyed glower never leaving his face. Nothing seemed to surprise him.

In the chaos, Nikita managed to catch a glimpse of Jonesy, shirtless and sweaty, guitar strapped to his back as he pulled away from the stage, preparing to dive right off. Even from where she stood, she could see the blaze behind his baby blues. It all happened in slow motion. He was an eagle, arms outspread as he soared above the crowd, heads following him as he flew. Through the shouting and bustle she could hear Alex scream out "Jonesy! NO!"

Unfortunately Jonesy had miscalculated, and while he took the entire group of drunken morons that were surrounding Alex, he took down his brother too. The rest of Jonesy's bandmates jumped into the crowd to back up their singer. More people were jumping in to fight, or try to break up the fight. Nikita was being pushed away. It was getting harder and harder for her to see what was going on. A hail of shattered brown glass burst into the air, the last thing she saw was someone smashing a beer bottle over Jonesy's head. It did little to deter him as he went to throttle the culprit.

A pair of sturdy hands came to grab the back of her shirt. Nikita turned around suddenly with her fist raised in the air, ready to murder whoever laid their hands on her.

It was Matt.

Nikita let out a sigh.

The house lights came back on, blinding and harsh white, stunning most of the audience.

"C'mon!" Matt shouted. "Time to go!"

She took his hand, and they both ran for the exit, refusing to look back.

The cold refreshing air came as a relief, Nikita's shirt sticking to her body with a thick layer of sweat. Matt doubled over to catch his breath, a slight chuckle came out of him.

"That was amazing! WOW!"

Nikita herself was feeling far from enthused. She too was doubled over trying to regain her breath and calm herself. It was while she was kneeled over had she noticed a peculiarity. Before her lay a perfect line of black powder, it looked as though someone took the time to walk around the perimeters of the building. Her fingers slowly edged closer to the line of powder, curious as to what the substance was. Before she could touch it a group of people ran out of the warehouse, breaking the perfect line and almost toppling her over.

In the distance they could see the dancing lights of blues and reds, it was coming closer, the sirens having yet to go off.

"Looks like the cops are here, c'mon, let's go" Matt said from behind her.

* * *

She wanted silence on the drive back home.

Nothing but silence. A place for her headspace to clear. However the ringing in her ear from the heavy music was endless, amongst Matt's excited chatter. He was not over the events from earlier, it was certainly exciting compared to his day to day life. He was going on and on while she was more focused on her driving.

At this point Nikita swore she would never go out anymore, even with Lydia's birthday party coming up.

Her white mini cooper pulled up to Matt's home, alongside the curb. Nikita forced herself to smile, feeling awful she didn't enjoy the night as much as Matt did. He returned the smile, a more genuine and warm smile unlike her artificial one.

Matt unbuckled his seat belt "Well, this is where I leave you!"

Nikita was more lost in her thoughts, staring out the windshield and drumming her fingers against the steering wheel, thinking of how she was going to get the night out of her head. What the hell was going on with her lately? Her mood was all over the place, spanning every emotion in such short bursts. She hated Alex, she wanted to help Alex. She was content one second, she wanted to rip out Erica's eyes the next. She was on the brink of questioning her sanity, especially with that book from earlier. So lost and clouded in her thoughts Nikita hadn't noticed Matt inching closer, staring deeply and admiring her beauty. Nikita's eyes went wide and she froze upon feeling a soft caress against her cheek.

She couldn't function properly enough to form a coherent sentence, her words jumbling out.

"Wha-WHAT!?" Nikita suddenly pressing herself against the drivers side door, putting a good deal of distance between them. Even this wasn't enough.

Matt's eyes flew open, abashed at her behavior. "I thought! What!? You were giving me signals!"

"A girl being nice to you isn't a signal! That's not flirting!" Nikita ready to physically kick him out of the car. "That's called being a decent person!"

"You said yes to this date!" Matt pointing out, like it were the most obvious thing ever.

Her mouth fell wide open. "First off you wouldn't take no for an answer! AND you were the one who constantly reminded me that we were going as friends. Strictly friends! That is what I agreed to! THIS WAS NOT A DATE!"

Matt had the audacity to roll his eyes at her. "What about when you held my hand?"

"When the fuck was that?" Nikita's voice pitching higher with anger and disbelief.

"Like twenty minutes ago! When we were leaving the place." Matt himself growing frustrated with Nikita.

"Ew what!?" Perhaps 'ew' wasn't the best words to use, Matt flinching at the wound it had caused.

"Are you talking about when we were running for our lives? Matt, I'm sorry. I already told you I didn't want to get involved in anything romantic with anyone. We're just friends."

Matt sighed. "Right, just friends." A subtle tone of annoyance laced in his voice as if it could guilt Nikita into wanting more.

He hopped out of the car and slammed the door so hard it rattled her mini cooper. Nikita sunk her head letting it rest on the steering wheel.

Next she would have to swear off talking to boys.

Something dark and shiny on the passenger seat caught her attention from the corner of her eye, Matt's camera.

If she weren't a decent person she would have chucked it out the car window and rolled over it.

"Hell no." She muttered to herself. "Nope. Nope."

There was no way Nikita was going to go up to Matt's doorbell and hand it back to him. She was done with his face for tonight, there was far too much awkwardness between them. Instead she would hand it to him tomorrow in school after he had time to cool off. Or drop it at the lost and found. But that didn't mean she couldn't look through it... Nikita's always curious nature took over and she grabbed the camera, figuring out how to turn it on and browse through the photo library.

Nikita didn't know what she was going to find in there, but something compelled her to look. See what kept Matt's eye glued to the lens. Aside from some of the shots of Jonesy's band tonight, most of them were your typical yearbook type photos. A few of her school peers sitting on lunch benches, smiling and posing, a few from the lacrosse games, the ones she helped him take.

Next was a picture of herself next to her locker, one of the few candids Matt had taken. Although the more she scrolled through his camera roll, the more horrified she had become. There were pictures of Nikita and Lydia alone in the library, Nikita getting out of her car, one of her on the bleachers alone lacing her shoes. All of these shots were strategic and taken from a far distance. In fact there was a collection of different girls from their school in there. All of them were photos taken without permission, and were far too intimate. It was when Nikita found a picture of Allison Argent in her room did she decide she had seen enough.

Her mind was made up. Matt was a creepy stalker. And there was no questioning it.

A knock on the passenger window made her jump and almost let out a scream.

He had returned for what he had left behind.

A slight smile pulled at his lips, not the warm and happy smile he usually wore. There was something sinister about his smile, something that screamed danger. The hair on the back of her neck prickled up. His darkened eyes landed on his camera, which was still in her hands.

"Looks like you found my camera." His eyes on the device before coming up to Nikita, that smile of his starting to crumble, the anger shining through it.

She could see right through his transparencies. He didn't scare her. She just cracked some dude's face earlier tonight, Nikita was on some new level of confidence, but it was best to not mess around. Nikita held the camera up with one hand, the leather strap dangling freely.

"Looks like I do. Saw the lacrosse photos we took together, they look nice."

He was unconvinced "Do you mind opening the door so I can grab my camera?"

But she wasn't going to give him that advantage, instead she rolled the passenger window halfway and extended her arm out with the camera. His hand reached over and grabbed the camera, she could feel his fingers dragging across hers as if he were enjoying their touch one last time.

"You know, my computer has better display quality, why don't you come inside and I can show you the pictures." He said.

She let out a nervous laugh, over her dead body was she going inside." Maybe another time. It's been a long night."

It was all said with a sweet smile. Hoping he was buying this. And he did. Matt said goodnight, and waved her off.

Nikita started the car and backed out, nearly knocking over a trash can. She kept her eyes on him in the rearview window, just in case.

'What the fuck! WHAT THE FUCK!?" Her mind screamed as she sped off.

By the time she got home, Nikita had hit her limit. She was overwhelmed, overstimulated, and over everything in general. Her bones were starting to ache, she had felt so weak and exhausted. Hungry again. Every molecule in her body felt beaten and bruised, the day had been so bizarre and heavy. Nikita could already feel hot tears prickling at her eyes, building at the water line as she struggled to open her front door. It was the last of her frustrations, the straw that broke the camel's back. Her eyeliner began to smudge when tears rolled down her cheeks. She jiggled the key in the lock, kicked the door a few times, each kick becoming more aggressive than the last. she just wanted to be let in, and nothing in her life was working and everything was falling apart.

The door opened.

On the other side was a half awake Walter. He looked annoyed at first, until the sleep cleared from his eyes to see his daughter in distress, sniffling and crying before him. A breath escaped her when her father pulled her in for a hug. It was sudden. Nikita never knew just how much she needed it then. For the first time in a long time she felt like she was safe, like she was allowed to lay her weary head and let her problems wash away.

Nikita let Walter hug her, and this time she embraced him back.

* * *

If you enjoyed any part of this chapter please let me know. Reviews really give me the encouragement and motivation I need to keep writing! Especially for a story with little followers or views (trust me, it's a major blow to my writing confidence)

So please leave me some love!

CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER, it'll be a total "ohhh you're fucked now!" moment for one of the characters!


	33. Chapter 33

Hello everyone! Thank you so so much to you lovely people who have left me reviews. For I am probably the most insecure writer, ever, your love means the world to me. This chapter is on the shorter side, it's more of a set up chapter. NOT A FILLER, because important things do happen here. I really hope you guys enjoy it!

* * *

Test no. 1

" Today I will be conducting a series of tests, that will explore: Sound, smell, and reflexes." Stiles spoke into his phone while it recorded his voice. "My test subject being : Nikita, no middle name, Grace. Nikita has recently shown traces of non-human ability, being able to defend herself from a Werewolf. While she smells human, my doubts still remain."

He watched her walking out of class with the rest of their school peers. Stiles light on his feet, following her but with a distance. His tumb tapped against the screen, scrolling to find the app he had downloaded this morning. The question of Nikita's being more than a human may have been buried time and time again, but it had never left him, not completely. He would try to get to the bottom of this, from a distance where he wasn't intruding or upsetting her. She didn't need to know about the tests he was conducting.

Stiles held out his phone, keeping three people between he and Nikita. From it emitted a sharp shrill sound, unheard by human ears, only picked up by canines. The dog whistle sounded off, slicing through the airwaves. Stiles watched her, she didn't bother to turn around, not even a quiver in her body. There was no sign of Nikita hearing the dog whistle, not even a subtle hint. The dog whistle was chosen for any supernatural creature that had heightened hearing, be it Kanima or Werewolf, or anything in between.

It was then decided that perhaps he needed to be closer for the whistle to take effect, and now he was so close his phone was almost touching her hair. Her perfect chestnut colored hair with the loose effortless waves. And now he could smell the gorgeous scent of the white jasmine that just naturally wafted on her. The scent so sweet and addicting, how he had missed it while they were apart, how he had missed her. So often he had revisited that night, the night which he left her. Playing his regret over and over in his head as a form of punishment for what he had done to her. Every atom of his body wanting to crawl back to her, on hands and knees, beg her to take him back.

And then when his eyes would fall to his father's private investigative files, photos of mangled bodies; he would remind himself that this was for the best.

Stiles stopped in his tracks, the space between he and Nikita growing into a crater.

Noted, test number one was a failure.

Suddenly the phone was snatched out of his hands. Scott stood red faced, and clearly in pain, turning off the dog whistle. His chest rising and falling, hand threatening to shatter Stiles' phone. Scott let out a long breath he was holding in from out his nostrils, giving Stiles a death glare.

"What are you doing!?"

Stiles pulled his friend off to the side by the water fountains, where they had more privacy. He didn't really expect for Scott to be on board with his latest case of shenanigans, especially not after last night.

While at the concert the other night, he, Erica, and Isaac were able to apprehend Jackson, only for a little. While they had him doped up on Ketamine, they were able to get some information out of him, out of who they assume was the Kanima master. None of it made sense to them, before they could press Kanima Jackson for more, an unexpected riot had broken out. The riot had reached them, even in the private room they were holed up in.

The perfect distraction for the Kanima.

Stiles had a moment of cold panic then, Nikita was somewhere in the crowd, the Kanima was somewhere in the crowd. He remembered fighting through the sea of people and hail of bloodied fists in search of her, screaming out her name.

The worst of the night was reserved for Scott, Allison's mother trying to end his life. Had it not been for Derek, he would certainly be dead.

"Conducting a series of tests on Nikita to figure out if she's human or not." Stiles answering Scott's question.

He could see the twist of contortion on Scott's questioning face. A second for the idea to settle and Scott seemed content, even nodding his head. He knew, Stiles knew, there was something off with Nikita Grace. It was merely a hunch, a hypothesis based on the little details that didn't seem to add up. This was merely an experiment, and there was no harm in that.

"Alright." Scott said. "I'm game."

* * *

Test no. 2

The masses were gathered in the cafeteria, but Nikita chose to stay far away from the herd. A creature of solitude, she didn't choose for this to happen, this was all their doing. Regret paigned through Stiles, his back and forth dance of "did I just ruin her life?" and " she's alive thanks to our efforts."

Nikita had gone to the vending machine, standing there trying to make up her mind. Stiles noticed she didn't carry a meal, her appetite shrinking much like her body these days. Even with the baggy sweaters she donned, he could tell how thin she was by her face. It wasn't soft and round, her cheeks having sunken.

He and Scott were peering around the corner of the hall, ready to initiate test number two. Stiles snapped on a pair of purple latex gloves which he stole from the dentist's office the last time he visited. They were scented and flavored like artificial grape, but this was the best he could do at the moment. Scott already had his nose hidden beneath the collar of his shirt when Stiles reached into the evidence bag and pulled out a pair of socks he found in the boys locker room.

These weren't just any socks, they belonged to Greenberg himself. What was once white, had turned into a repugnant shade of green and grey. Stiles let out a dry gag, trying to quiet himself. Even though he was breathing through his mouth he swore he could taste it on his tongue. Whatever this was, was ten times worse for Scott who's sense of scent was stronger than an average human's. While Stiles held the socks his dearest best friend attempted to use his hands to fan the scent towards where Nikita was standing. Once again Stiles made sure there was a distance between them, to see if she could pick up the odious scent from far away.

They waited, Nikita was much too preoccupied in picking between a bag of chips, or a chocolate bar. Test number two was a sinking ship, Scott and Stiles being the Skipper and the Captain.

"What the hell are you two up to?"

The two of them turned to see Isaac standing behind them, using his arm to cover his nose. He must have picked up the scent and traced it back to them. Stiles put both the socks and gloves back into the evidence bag. The damage was already done, the putrid scent would stick to their clothes until they burned them.

"Trying to figure out if Nikita is human or not." Scott simply said. "This didn't work, and neither did the dog whistle."

Isaac's perplexed expression turned to one of hard annoyance. "That was you idiots?"

Stiles rolled his eyes, not caring if the whistle bothered Isaac or not. Isaac wasn't his priority, or near his list of concerns at the moment.

He pulled out his phone to add to his notes and findings. "Experiment one and two have failed. Nikita didn't notice neither sound or smell. One test remains. After what I saw the other day, there is a chance that Nikita has heightened reflexes, her blocking all of Erica's punches. Seeing how she was aware and front facing the entire time, I don't consider it to be supernaturally related. Today we are about to test that theory."

Isaac shook his head, fixing the top button of his man cardigan from Banana Republic. "I can't wait to watch you fail."

* * *

Test no. 3

The last test.

Boyd decided to tag along with the three of them, Isaac easily convincing him to watch what he assumed would be another fail. Stiles had no reservations of the outcome. If Nikita was proven to be human, then they could breathe easy. If she proved to be more than that, they weren't certain of what would happen, other than Derek giving himself a hemorrhoid with all the stress and clenching he would be doing.

She was at her locker now, quietly unloading her books and keeping to herself. Once again, they were herded against the corner, stacked atop each other with Boyd being at the very top. Boyd was very quiet, and so often Stiles found that the more quiet they were, the sharper their observations tended to be. When they were certain Nikita wouldn't turn around, they peeled away from the wall.

In his hands Isaac held a lacrosse ball, he tossed it up and down playfully, eying the back of Nikita's head.

"This isn't a good idea." Boyd finally speaking up. "If you guys don't feel like idiots now, you surely will after this."

"It's gotta work." Stiles scrolling on the digital dossier he kept of Nikita in his phone.

"You're going to make an ass out of yourself, and I'll be here to say I told you so." Boyd finishing with his hands on his hips. He didn't want to be part of this, but felt the need to facilitate. Sometimes Stiles thought of Boyd to be the mother hen of Derek's wolf pack.

"He's right." Scott taking the ball from Isaac who was winding himself like an all star pitcher.

Scott let out a sigh of resignation, regret already swarming him. "I'll do it."

Everyone fell silent, Stiles, Boyd, and Isaac taking a step back so they were far behind Scott, getting ready to run...just in case. Boyd was still far from reassuring, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked on with the rest.

Nikita was still unsuspecting. A doe grazing amongst the shrubbery, unaware of her surroundings. Now she was pulling out her last book, Scott had to make the move now, or never. He picked any hesitation he had right off the floor and called out her name, giving her at least some sort of heads up, otherwise he would feel awful if he just smacked her in the back of the head.

When she turned around the lacrosse ball flew right out of Scott's hand, it had crashed directly into her right shoulder shoulder, Nikita's reflexes proving to fall short. Nikita's mouth fell open, nothing coming out, she didn't even know what to say. The hit wasn't hard enough to leave a bruise, but enough to leave round red mark, which was already starting to appear. She and Scott made eye contact for the briefest moment, her fingers tightening to fists which he was certain she wanted to use on him, over and over.

He turned to look behind him, the others were gone, leaving him to look guilty as sin. Scott opened his mouth to jumble out a sorry, but decided it was best to get the hell out of there.

* * *

\- Nikita's POV-

With long quick strides she crossed the hall, head whipping side to side, why did she suddenly feel like she was being followed today?

It was nearly the end of the day and she was so fed up and done.

No one told her it would be such an arduous task trying to dodge all the people she was trying to stay away from. Her shit list was ever growing day by day, the spot for number one was constantly changing. One day it was Erica at the top of her list, today it was Matt. She hadn't spotted him thankfully, the two of them didn't share a class.

Scott McCall however was creeping his way into third place, especially with what happened earlier. She couldn't even begin to explain his asinine ways, Scott was a mess of a human all on his own; she didn't even want to think of him when there were worse people in her life.

Jonesy dared show his face today, after being absent yesterday. Lucky for her, he kept to himself, keeping a comfortable distance between the two of them. The one person she wanted to see the most was taking a much needed break from school over the last few days. Nikita would love to have Lydia here, by her side. Maybe then she would feel a little less lonely.

Eichen House Brochures were still popping up every now and then. Nikita attempting to learn how to freeze her emotions upon seeing them. It wasn't an act really, it was just hard to conjure up the feelings of giving a fuck lately. Nothing excited her much these days, the things she had taken pleasure in had dulled, the things she had loved had turned bitter much like herself. Nikita was practically dragging her feet on the ground, the only thing that excited her was the relief and safety she felt when crawling back to bed.

She felt all eyes on her, as per usual. Instead of penetrating her, they were rolling off her back like droplets of water sliding down a paned glass.

Let them look.

Let them snicker.

It was all white noise and static to her anyways.

Never had she been so happy to see that beautiful head of gorgeous strawberry blonde hair shining like it were the sun and the universe itself. Nikita spotted Lydia at the end of the hall and suddenly a hint of a smile took to her lips.

She almost broke into a run to catch up with her best friend, but the last bell of the day went off, prompting students to walk about. Nikita found herself pushing through bodies just to reach Lydia. She almost toppled over as _he_ ran into her. The collision caused the strap of her bag to slide off her shoulder, the contents it carried spilled across the floor. Quickly she knelt down to pick everything up. Matt was faster, having grabbed her assortment of makeup, pencils and other knick knacks she carried around. Nikita didn't even give him a moment to observe the items, having snatched them out of Matt's hands and stuffing them back inside her bag; causing his hand to recoil.

They were far too close for her liking and it was already nauseating.

"I think we should talk about what happened last night." He was using a soft apologetic voice, trying to stroke a calmness into Nikita. But she wasn't having it.

" There's nothing to talk about." Nikita shoving the last of her items into her bag, and getting up to her feet.

He looked so utterly victimized, pointing a finger to his chest. "Nikita, I'm a nice guy, I swear. What you saw was a misunderstanding."

"What I saw should have you shut up around me, forever." She casually stepped over him, leaving Matt dumbstruck.

Her efforts of getting to Lydia had gone to waste, Matt was now following her trying to convince her it was nothing more than an art project based on candids. Nikita had sought immediate refuge in the girls bathroom where Matt wouldn't dare venture. It was just her in here, and even then it wasn't good enough. Nikita had locked herself in a stall, feeling the overwhelming wave of fear and anxiety coming for her. She had assumed that this feeling would numb by now, seeing how often she felt this way. It was a day by day feeling, would she feel like this forever? There was no getting used to this. Nikita could feel hot streams of tears rolling down her cheeks.

On the powder blue wall of the bathroom stall is where she found the nasty piece of literature someone had written about Erica, and how she shook like her mother's vibrator. Nikita had taken the liberty to scratch it out with a permanent marker last week. However, someone had to take Erica's place in the line of ridicule, and this time it was Nikita.

' Nikita Grace = sad attention whore' it said.

Someone had clearly put a lot of thought into articulating their feelings. Of course everyone assumed that when Detective Hirst went on a public smear campaign, quoting that Nikita's actions were out of seeking attention.

The bathroom door opened and she could hear the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking against the grimey tiles. Nikita could just imagine how they looked, soft pink suede with silver metallic heels. Lydia's new favorite pair. She wanted Lydia to comfort her so badly, asking luck to be kind to her this one time.

Except it had never smiled upon Nikita.

The bathroom door stall slammed open. A smug looking Erica Reyes clad in her plunging neckline shirt and leather jacket stood there, her right arm resting on the open door. Nikita let out a sharp gasp and a jump. She knew Erica would come back for her, their little dance from the other day was far from over.

"You thought we were done, didn't you?"

Nikita let out a cry when Erica's fists bunched in her shirt, literally dragging Nikita out of the bathroom stall, where she felt safe, and forcefully pushing her against the wall next to the sink. Nikita was struggling with words, nothing clever came to mind this time, strength was now a stranger, she couldn't lift her trembling hands even if she wanted. Erica was out for blood, pleased with how cowardly Nikita looked now.

When Erica's fist pulled back, Nikita shrunk in place, her tears returned.

Her eyes closed, getting ready for the pain. She wouldn't embrace it, she would just take it. Just get it over with.

It never came.

Nikita's eyes slowly opening. Uncertain of what she might find.

Erica's white knuckled fist unclenched along with her hard facial expression, her right hand coming down slowly while the left held Nikita in place. And that too peeled away. There was a moment of stark silence, Erica searching Nikita's face, looking for the same girl she confronted yesterday. The one who threw it down, the one who held her own, the one who was stronger than she seemed. Nikita peered back in those rich copper eyes, to see something she never expected to see from Erica.

Worry.

It was far from the sympathetic gaze she was used to getting from those she knew, far from the taunting filled glances she got every day in the halls. Something had stirred in Erica and she stepped away from Nikita, creating an invisible forcefield between them where Nikita felt safe again.

Erica's black varnished fingers went to grip the roots of her blonde wavy hair, her gaze never leaving Nikita who was still plastered against the wall. Afraid to move from there, afraid to move at all.

"What am I doing?" Erica whispered herself.

Nikita remained quiet, unsure of what was happening either, relief washing over her so that her knees didn't feel as wobbly. The situation had flipped so fast she thought she might be suffering from whiplash.

Erica let out a breath, sure in her decision, and grabbed a wad of tissue paper from the dispenser, then quickly ran a cold tap over it. Nikita didn't flinch or jump when Erica pressed the cold and wet tissue beneath her eyes. It instantly felt soothing, relieving the heat that rested beneath her eyes from crying. The blonde showing compassion, something Nikita never knew Erica to possess.

"What are you doing?" Nikita's voice not so small anymore, pretending to be bigger than what she felt. Meek and vulnerable.

"If done right, it'll reduce the redness and swelling. Making it look like you never cried in the first place."

A minute ago Erica was content on mangling Nikita's face, expecting another scuffle between them. Nikita couldn't be sure what she had seen in her, what had caused Erica's change of heart.

Her forehead scrunched. It was foolish of her to question a good and pure thing, but nonetheless…

"Why are you doing this?"

Erica let out an irrate sigh at the question, and maybe she too was starting to second guess herself.

"Not too long ago it was me hiding in the bathroom stall crying." Erica moving the cold compress to Nikita's other eye. She was noticing how much taller the blonde actually was, especially with her high heels on.

"I learned some tricks throughout the years." The blonde Beta sadly admitting. It chipped away at Nikita, seeing Erica like this, open and exposed. Even with the hard black enamel growing around her heart.

It was a moment neither of them had expected, but both silently grateful for. Erica gently dabbing beneath Nikita's eyes, erasing the watery sediments of mascara and eyeliner. Nikita's eyes rested on the bridge of Erica's nose. It was only yesterday when these two got into a fight, Nikita clearly remembering the blood that had seeped from the headbut to Erica's face. The skin had pulled itself together and healed...there was no mark on Erica's face.

"Erica, you were bleeding yesterday." Nikita had to point it out, even if the evidence wasn't directly in front of her. She was so certain with what she had seen, was it possible she had wanted to see it so bad that she had just imagined it?

"You're not scrappy enough to get me to bleed." Erica threw the wad of tissue paper into the trash with a faint smile and went back to look into the mirror's reflection, fixing a few wild wry strands of hair.

Erica could feel the curious gaze burning a spot on the small area between her eyebrows, Nikita was silently questioning her.

"Stop staring, let's just go."

Nikita didn't have time to answer when Erica grabbed her book bag from up the floor and shoved it into her chest, then pushing Nikita out of the bathroom door. Nikita decided to keep her questions to herself, seeing how it was only annoying Erica, now wasn't the time to test this unlikely alliance.

"Makeup wipes do wonders too, you know." Erica's conversation seeming to be out of the blue.

Nikita walked alongside her, holding her bag close by, trying to match Erica's steps. "Huh?"

"For when you cry. And always keep a small bar of soap and a pair of yoga pants in your locker. You know, if you ever, try to hide-" Erica's voice growing more silent, she didn't want to finish the rest of the sentence.

She didn't have to finish her sentence, Nikita knew where she was going. In the event Nikita lost control of her bodily functions and happened to wet herself, like Erica had done once or twice in the past. Nikita opened her mouth, perhaps a piece of consolation, wanting to speak words of solidarity to let Erica know that she was sorry for all that she had been through. Never did it occur to her that the two girls had gone through many similarities.

Instead nothing came out.

"So why were you in the bathroom crying?" Erica leaning her head towards Nikita, the two walking through the busy hall. Eyes were on Nikita and Erica, this time it was because two people who normally never got along were now walking together. No one would try anything though, half the people at this school was terrified of Erica Reyes.

Nikita adjusted the strap to her bag. As much as she wanted to spill her guts and tell Erica about all the things that stressed her out, she decided it was best she kept it to herself. She didn't need yet another person trying to lob her over to Eichen House.

"People in this school are stupid. And it makes me weep."

Erica inspected her black varnished nails, not minding the stares at all. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"You included." Nikita throwing out, just to see Erica's reaction. She offered Erica a small smile, letting her know that she was in fact joking. This was her sort of proclamation to peace, hoping Erica could take a joke. Something to loosen past tensions that had mounted up on them

The blonde looked up from her nails, her eyebrows cocking up at Nikita's dig. "You really are a brat, huh." Then she rewarded her with a full smile, pearly teeth and all.

Erica stopped and stood still upon sight of Lydia. While she made amends with Nikita, Lydia was a long shot, not even worth trying or attempting. Nikita was easier to get to, sympathetic. While Lydia still remained perched high on what she called the social pyramid, at least in her mind she believed she still held the position. Lydia was deluded into believing she was still the most sought after girl in school, when it was far from truth. People laughed at her now, instead of admiring her; the same way they laughed at Nikita.

"This is where I leave you." Erica giving Nikita a rough pat on the back and turning on her heels. Giving one last fragment of encouragement before leaving. "I'm sure you can handle it from here."

Nikita hollowed out her hands to call after Erica. "Does this make us friends now?"

Erica only answered with a 'If only you were so lucky!' Never turning back around.

She had left Nikita with a smile on her face, she admittedly already felt better thanks to Erica. That is until her attention went back to Lydia.

Lydia was handing out ornate cardstock invitations. Never in the history of Lydia Martin did she ever need to hand out invitations to her birthday. Lydia Martin's parties were always word of mouth, the social invites spread like wildfire and half the county would show up for her extravagant events. Even the coveted college boys would show up, making Lydia's parties better than any highschool party.

Nikita came face to face with Lydia, her first reaction was to hug her, until she saw that vacant face. It was like all life had fled her, all spark and raw intelligence traded for the dull person standing before her. Lydia didn't bother to smile when she saw Nikita, she couldn't even frown, tired bags resting heavily beneath her red rimmed eyes.

Lydia looked so dazed out, as if floating on another planet. Nikita pulled her friend into a tight hug, maybe Lydia needed it at the moment, but Nikita needed it more. Even with just a few days, Nikita had missed Lydia so much. Nikita squeezed Lydia the slightest, afraid of hurting her, she wished Lydia would squeeze her back, or at the very least wrap her arms around her. But they hung limply to her side, Lydia refusing to let go of the invitations. It was Lydia herself who pushed away, to hand out yet another invitation.

The jaded redhead handing them to literally anyone that passed her, even the people she normally wouldn't want at her party. The desperation was so sad to see, Lydia clinging onto the only thing she had left, her reputation. And even that had been dragged in the mud, her and Nikita were the school lepers.

"You're coming tonight."

It wasn't even a question, a sharp statement pinning Nikita to a board so there was no way out, all without eye contact.

"Yeah! I wouldn't miss it. I told you, there are a few things I have to take care of before I get there though." Nikita's hand fished out a folded piece of paper from her bag. She opened it to look at her job application, for Dr. Deaton's veterinary office.

Lydia didn't bother with the answer, her attention deadlocked on Jackson who was making his way down the hall. Nikita didn't even notice his presence, holding the folded piece of paper between her lips and digging into her purse, in search of her car keys.

She needed to drop off the job application, then go home and get ready for both Lydia's party and dinner. Walter had been pestering her the past week about a dinner that was coming up tonight, he made it clear she had to attend tonight, some fancy steakhouse, and Melissa would be there as well. Nikita would make the effort, it's not like she was going to say no to good food anyways.

As she dug for her keys, her fingers blindly searching in her bag, Lydia handed Jackson an invitation. The two were like robots, in that they were so devoid of emotion and looked like a tractor had run their asses over. Her dark bold brows came together as she watched the most awkward interaction known to man, the folded paper still held between her lips. Jackson walked away with the invitation, his head bowed, eyes never leaving the floral parcel.

"I'll be there." He grunted like an unsophisticated caveman, Jackson sounding far from excited.

Lydia turned to look at Nikita with a triumphant smile on her face, pulling the paper out of Nikita's mouth.

"I can't find my keys!" Nikita still on her search, ready to dump out her purse in attempt.

"They'll probably turn up at lost and found, now hurry and go do whatever it is you have to do, and dress up for tonight." Lydia opened the paper to see what it was for, a sudden scowl pulling at her dull features. And she put the paper back in Nikita's mouth. "I'll give you a ride, let's go."

* * *

The volkswagon pulled up to the veterinary parking lot, Lydia pulling down the mirror to adjust her lip gloss.

Nikita's hand gripped the door handle. "Are you not coming inside?"

Lydia let out a scoff, the wand of her gloss coating her lips in candy red. "And take the risk of smelling like cat piss? No thanks."

Her friend was far from making a compelling point, but she hopped out of the car anyways. Nikita walked into the office, a little bell chimed signalling her entrance. It was completely dead, not a single patient sat in the waiting room. The front of the office itself was clean, and yet no one stood there. The sounds of smooth jazz played over the speakers, the kind you would hear in an elevator, or when your call was put on hold as you fought your internet provider. She could hear the soft mewlings of kittens and a yap here and there from a puppy, they were kept in the back. Nikita walked to the front of the desk, tapping her nails impatiently before deciding to look over her job application once more. She had no job experience at all, but Walter said that Dr. Deaton was a friend of his, and she was certain to have this job.

"I'm glad you decided to stop by, Nikita."

She looked up from the paper to see who she assumed was Dr. Deaton. He was older than she had expected,perhaps a few years younger than her father. His dark eyes were twinkling with a knowing, a gentle smile worked at his face. She was bewildered in that he knew her name before she had the chance of introducing herself.

"You look a lot like your parents...and you're the only person here dropping off a job application."

Deaton having caught Nikita's hesitation and pointing out the obvious.

"Oh. Right!" She felt like an idiot already.

"Can I see it?" Deaton's hand reaching across the front desk, and she passed it over to him.

He didn't bother looking at it, tossing it in a filling basket next to the computer. "Perfect you're hired."

Nikita couldn't help but to smile at the abrupt hiring process. "No job interview?"

He hesitated in answering, set on studying her instead, looking at her, peering into her. She thought that perhaps he hadn't heard her, his eyes crinkling deeper searching for something hidden, something she didn't know of. Nikita turned around to make sure Deaton wasn't looking at something behind her. When she turned around he had straightened out, the muscles in his face relaxing now.

"Well, how do you feel about animals, Nikita?"

She began to relax as well. "I love animals!"

" Interview done. Congratulations Nikita. Training will start monday."

His hand extended for a shake, and she shook it back gratefully. A small part of her was excited for this job, nevermind she would have to work with Scott from time to time. This would give her something to do to keep her mind off of the constant ocean of fear she felt day to day. It would also get her out of her large empty home. She was so sick of the bland walls that yearned for photos to be hung from them, she was tired of the empty rooms that sat spacious and quiet, begging to be filled. The home itself was a cold hollow cell where the only voice that spoke to her was her own, bouncing off the walls, she would blast music in hopes it would keep her company.

"Can't wait!" Nikita chirped, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "Thank you so much!"

Nikita was about to walk out when something came in mind, Deaton was a veterinarian, with a bountiful experience when it came to animals. Nikita turned on her heels to face him, he was scrolling on his computer, perhaps putting her information into the system.

"Dr. Deaton, the animal attacks recently, you honestly think it was all a mountain lion?"

His head lifted to look at her, taking a moment to find an accurate answer. "Mountain lions are known to be terribly hostile, especially when it comes to protecting their young or territory. Many of these occurrences have been either in or near the woods."

Nikita took a step towards the front desk where he stood. "Yeah but, do you think that it's possible it wasn't a mountain lion? Maybe it could have been something else?"

The wrinkles on Deaton's forehead ran deep, and he scratched at the dark stubble on his chin ponderously.

"Do you have other ideas on what it could have been?" His voice wasn't mocking, but curious, allowing her to state her piece without judgement. But she feared it so badly.

Nikita wrung at her index fingers, inhaling deeply before speaking. "A wolf maybe? A were-"

She saw the look on Deaton's face as he was trying to make sense of her words and felt abashed already. She had yet to start this job, and already she was acting like a total freak. Nikita wanted this to be her safe space, a place where no one sneered at her or treated her like a total outcast.

"I'm sorry, never mind." Nikita brushing herself off quickly.

"I do believe there are always new species to be found." Deaton bowed his head back down to focus on the computer, his words garnering her attention. "Did you know there were seven new species found in just this year? A new type of shark, a new type of gecko. They actually found a new type of wolf in Northern Africa!"

She could hear the enthusiasm in his voice, he was clearly a man who was passionate in his field of study. He didn't deny Nikita's words, didn't buy into them either, but he already made her feel so much better. He wasn't quick to shut her down like everyone else. Aside from Jonesy, He was the only one who believed her. It made her feel remorseful inside just thinking of him.

"Keep your eye out on all that surrounds you, Nikita." Deaton still having to lift his gaze from the bright screen. "You being observant is a great thing, don't let anyone dismiss your brilliance."

A ball of warm light beamed inside of her, she needed to hear such words so badly, especially recently. She mumbled a shy thanks and said her goodbye to Deaton. He had given her a small dose of confidence and self assurance, which she would cling onto with all her might.

Unknowing to her...it would not be enough.

* * *

\- Scott's POV-

Scott couldn't help but to fidget with the tie around his neck, he wasn't very fond of dressing up. There was too much on his mind to enjoy the moment. He thought back to last night when he and Allison had their first argument, they had all failed to subdue the Kanima, only getting a little bit of information from Jackson. There was Gerard who was keeping him on a short leash. The worst of it was Allison's mom who had attempted to end Scott's life. Things had gone wry and Derek bit her.

"Scott, honey we're here."

His mom's voice interrupting his thoughts and Scott looked up to her. She looked so gorgeous, he couldn't remember the last time he had seen her dressed up like this. Melissa was wearing a simple red dress, it was the most form fitting thing she owned. Her dark hair was put up, allowing dark spirals of hair to frame her face. He had never in his life seen his mother wear red lipstick before, it looked so stunning on her. Even with all that he was going through, he couldn't help but to smile.

At least his mother was happy.

He, along with her, were dressed up. If Stiles saw him right now, he would burst into laughter and whip up some sarcastic remark of how out of place Scott looked. The silver tie he wore belonged to his father, he really wanted to throw it in the trash, with the rest of his father's stuff. But Melissa demanded he looked sharp tonight, he didn't understand what the big deal was; they were just getting dinner.

Scott and Melissa walked inside the restaurant, it was dimly lit with rows of black iron chandeliers overhead. It was a fancy steak house, the kind where middle aged men ordered an Old Fashioned and the ladies sipped on their dirty martinis. Scott swallowed thickly, he may have looked the part, but he felt so out of place. Neither he nor Melissa were used to this, but Melissa looked more in her element.

He was wearing black shiny dress shoes, they squeaked rather loudly as he crossed the grey wooden floors. He could see why his mother wanted him to dress up now.

Melissa found Walter waiting for them, Nikita sitting right across from him. The two of them were in the middle of the restaurant, sitting in polished mahogany seats. Scott internally berated himself, of course Nikita would be here, why wouldn't she be? Avoiding Nikita was getting harder and harder. Stiles broke up with her to put her out of harm's way, it would be foolish of Scott to befriend Nikita completely. He only allowed himself occasional contact here and there to make sure she was okay, because even Scott couldn't be cruel enough to leave her in the cold . But Scott didn't have a choice in the situation, not tonight. So he took a seat right next to Nikita and hoped this night would be over soon.

They both awkwardly mumbled their hellos.

She was trying to avoid him as much as he was trying to avoid her. He reminded her of Stiles, and the wound was still as fresh as the day he left her sitting alone in a tub. But more importantly Nikita had grown impatient with Scott and his distant ways. In fact she felt offended that Scott never tried to befriend her, except for that one time he had attempted to kiss her. Everything was such a mess.

The two didn't speak much, instead they listened to their parents gushing about the first time they met, and their first date. Scott noticed Nikita didn't eat much, she pushed her steak around the plate with her fork and seemed uninterested with everything going on around her. She was in her own world. Scott wished his abilities included the power to read minds, he wanted to know what she was thinking about. Did she think that steak was his face as she jabbed at it?

Despite her alarmingly skinny frame, she looked pretty. Nikita had worn a white dress with a deep plunging neckline held together by a silken black bow. Nikita resorted to sawing her heart shaped necklace along the silver chain, her eyes still set on the untouched food on her place.

Scott wondered if she was happy, if he was in the right for keeping her out of the supernatural, did he even have any right? He was staring at her for a while when she noticed him, Scott sunk into his seat as she stared daggers at him.

He gave her an awkward smile and went back to his rosemary smoked lamb chops. That was the most interaction they've had since this morning when he pelted her with a lacrosse ball.

"I know you don't like me Scott." Nikita's voice low, enough for him to hear. "If we're being frank, I don't like you either."

He didn't dislike Nikita at all, it was so far from the truth. Scott opened his mouth to make himself clear, and let her know.

"I'll be nice to you in front of our parents, for their sake. They seem to think you and I are the best of pals. And I know we'll be working together now."

Scott sat up straight in his seat. "Wh-wait what?" Had he heard that correctly?

"But I would appreciate it if you never approached me, and I won't approach you either."

He couldn't argue with Nikita. She needed to stay far from him.

Scott found himself running his finger back and forth through the flickering candle flame, transfixed on the dancing light. He, Stiles, and Derek were so close to solving Jackson's case. The plan was for him and Stiles to capture Jonesy at Lydia's party. They were so certain the Kanima master was Jonesy, and they would drag him to Deaton's and find a way to break his connection with Jackson while Derek took care of his Beta's and the full moon. Stiles suggested they knock out Jonesy then leave him in the desert for the vultures to peck at, but the idea seemed a little far fetched. Scott wanted this dinner to be over so he could take care of business.

Walter took a large swig of his brut champagne, the golden liquid bubbled to a silver foam. The older gentleman hooked his finger in his collar and pulled it to the side. Letting heat escape. Scott's eyes narrowed on Walter, he could see the sheen of sweat building along his peppered black hairline, the vein on the side of his neck throbbing rapidly. He had something to be nervous about, and it was starting to make Scott feel nervous too.

That's when Walter got up…

Both Nikita and Scott looked at each other, wanting to know if the other knew what was going on, then looked up at Walter with curious eyes. Waiting to see what he would do next.

"Melissa, this is a special night, this marks our fourth year together." Walter started.

Scott couldn't help but to scrunch his nose, a familiar scent, one which was often emitted from Allison started to cloud around his head. The sweet smell of love wafted through the air, emitting from both Melissa and Walter. His mother's smile was so wide and dazzling, she was beaming like a warm ray of light; only Walter could get her to smile like that.

"You were there for me during my hardest moments, you were there for me during my best moments." He looked to Nikita with a smile who gave him a small smile back.

" You make work bearable and give me a reason to get up at ungodly hours of the day. Although you make me happy I can't help but to notice how unhappy my home makes me. It's just Nikita and I, there are too many rooms and empty halls without photos."

Scott could hear Nikita's heart rate picking up, the skin of her knuckles turned white as they gripped around her water cup. Nikita's brows knitted together and she leaned forward, her green eyes darted back and forth between Melissa and Walter. Scott was confused at this point, was there something going on that he was unaware of? Nikita had caught on, why hadn't he?

It all became crystal clear when Walter got down on one knee and pulled out a little black velvet box. Scott was temporarily blinded by the diamond ring that sat inside, he was still grasping for straws, unable to believe what was happening. His brain felt fried at this point.

"It's time to turn the house into a home. It's time to fill those rooms, fill the empty halls with photos...Of the four of us. Melissa McCall, will you marry me?"

Melissa covered her mouth with her hands in surprise, her chocolate brown eyes welled with tears as she nodded and cried out a yes. That's when people in the restaurant burst into applause and cheer. It was a splendid joyous moment, love was in the air! Scott however could feel his stomach churning, panic seeping out of his very pores. All the effort he had put into avoiding Nikita had gone out the window.

" We need to get married soon, I am not waiting on this one!" Melissa exclaimed with a laugh as she wrapped her arm around Walter's neck and planted a kiss on his lips.

" A June wedding!" Walter said with a wide smile, their forehead just touching. He was just as eager as her.

 **June!** Scott could feel panic rising in his body, he wanted to hide beneath the table so badly. June was only a few short months away!

Melissa looked to Scott's confused expression "Scott! Why aren't you jumping for joy!? You've always wanted another sibling!"

Another sibling? Yes! like Stiles for instance, who was practically his brother.

Scott slowly turned to look at Nikita. She looked just as mortified as him. Both of them had their mouths hanging wide open, unable to process the fact that Scott would eventually be moving in, living under the same roof. Nikita was displeased, she would have to look at Scott all the time now, she would have to put up with Stiles' best friend. Nikita would see him at school, at work, and now at home. The two could not escape each other no matter how hard they tried. They were tied together now. Scott on the other hand was terrified, if he thought keeping his secret from Nikita was hard enough…

Things were about to get even harder now.

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If you enjoyed this, please leave me a review, don't be shy. I need all the validation and confirmation I can get! The next chapter will be Lydia's house party :} Can't wait!


	34. Chapter 34

Thank you so so much to my beautiful reviewers who keep me afloat and motivate me like crazy!

shoutout to: Ferallahey, PrettyPink01, Wildrecklessyouthinme, Survivor Girl, Luvdramoine, Beccasco, and Itbelongstoamuseum.

Also shoutout to all the people who are just starting this story, are binging it, or are in the process of catching up. I'm so happy you guys are enjoying this story. I know it's been a hell of a buildup and I appreciate how patient you guys have been, and how crazy observant you guys are.

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

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The drive to Lydia's party was nothing short of silent and uncomfortable; not a word was said between them. This was worse than an average person with social difficulties trying to conceal their cough during a lectured class. The two should have had lots to talk about, a lot to digest together, after all they were about to be step siblings.

Nikita didn't seem all too happy about the situation and Scott was still trying to process the idea of living with Nikita and Walter. His grip grew firm over the steering wheel as he leaned forward, he had to think of something to say. The silence was beginning to become unbearable, like white noise clawing at his ear drums. So he would try to concentrate on other sounds, like the sound of rolling tires on the asphalt, the sound of the soft music playing from the radio, the sound of Nikita's steady beating heart. His fingers tuned the volume and played with the different radio stations, but each station sounded so droll. Anything had to be better than this silence.

He had offered to give Nikita a ride from the restaurant to Lydia's party since they were both headed there anyways, and seeing how she didn't have a car, it was the only option.

Scott used the most friendly voice, one pumped full of false hope. "I'm sure they'll turn up."

Nikita didn't bother looking at him, opting to gaze out of the passenger window. Her eyes transfixed on the angry red full moon, half hidden behind the black sinister tree line. They stood tall and willowy, the hunched branches swaying with the breeze. As per always they were beckoning her to walk amongst them. The woods had missed Nikita, never again did she wake up in the middle of it.

Not anymore.

The nightmares, the sleepwalking had ceased. But she would never forget her golden haloed angel asking her if she were afraid.

Scott didn't need to look at the night sky to tell there was a full moon out. He could feel the adrenaline and anger within, like little currents riding in his veins. The feeling reminded him to stay calm tonight, he couldn't even let a sliver of anger escape him; or there was no telling what would happen. He let out a sigh and wondered how Derek was holding up, taking care of three newly transformed Betas. It would have actually been nice to have Derek around this time, to help pursue Jonesy-

"What will show up?" Nikita's delayed reply cut into Scott's thoughts.

" Your car keys." Scott replied. " I'm sure lost and found will have them, they'll turn up."

Relief washed over Scott at the sight of Lydia's home. They had reached their destination and he would be done with the lack of conversation he and Nikita were having. The two of them couldn't help but to notice how empty Lydia's driveway was, there were no cars around other than Allison's and Stiles. Scott couldn't even hear the thumping bass of music, it was a ghost town. Nikita hadn't answered him, so Scott decided to give it another shot. Something to wrap up their conversation with.

"If they don't, I can give you a ride to the hardware store so you can get them replaced." He offered with a friendly smile.

Nikita didn't bother answering, seeing herself out the car. He was taken aback by her rejection of his friendly offer, she really didn't want to be around him. Scott couldn't blame her, he wouldn't want to be around himself either. Nikita had dealt with a lot of his antics without any explanation. Him attempting to kiss her while under the influence of his first full moon, him openly avoiding her in most cases, and yesterday when he regrettably threw the lacrosse ball at her. Her getting in the car with him was brave enough already, she must have really loved Lydia to put up with him.

Scott got out of the car, and came to join her by the passenger side. She was hesitant in going into the home, maybe she was just waiting for him. More likely she wanted to avoid all social activities. They both jumped as something slammed against the car, it was just a group of obnoxious people approaching Lydia's place. The party was slowly arriving to Lydia's house, he could tell how worried Nikita was, thinking no one would bother showing up. He followed close behind Nikita, until they got to the large backyard.

Nikita went to Allison who was across the pool by herself. Allison's doe brown eyes landed on Scott only for a moment until she looked away. The wounds of their argument were still fresh, and neither of them knew how to approach one another. Scott didn't know how to explain that her mother had attempted to murder him. So instead he walked over to Stiles who was lounging next to the bar. His friend had on a plain red flannel shirt and jeans, Scott felt so overdressed, but none of that mattered at the moment...He had to tell Stiles what had just happened.

Stiles let out a snort of laughter when Scott lamely approached him. "Nice outfit, what, are you trying out for the part of James Bond?"

Usually Scott would slap Stiles' chest and tell him to shut up, but Scott couldn't help but to feel nervous. Stiles didn't seem to notice Scott's stand-off-ish behavior as he pretended to talk into an imaginary watch on his wrist.

"This is agent 007, I'm about to take down the Perp, Jonesy. Ready to kick some Kanima Master butt or what?" Stiles nudging at Scott's crossed arms. "We're finally going to figure this out once and for all. And then we're going to crush him!" Stiles bringing his fist into his palm.

Scott stuffed his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat, finally getting his friend's attention.

"Stiles, there's something I need to tell you."

Stiles grabbed the end of Scott's steel blue silk tie between his fingers, still far too distracted. "A tie? really? Damn i'm underdressed."

Just then Lydia interrupted, carrying a tray of pink colored drinks. Her eyes landed on Stiles, and the most exaggerate twist contorted her facial features, like Stiles was the most putrid thing she had ever seen.

"I don't remember inviting you."

Lydia wasn't too fond of Stiles, he did after all dump her best friend.

"Pretty sure it just got lost in the mail." Stiles deadpanned, knowing all too well she didn't mail out the invitations, she passed them out in the school halls.

Her green eyes narrowed on Stiles, like her target had been acquired. "Pretty sure it didn't."

Scott quickly grabbed two drinks off the silver tray bringing their child like quarrel to an end. There were important things to discuss, news Stiles wouldn't swallow all to well. Scott could feel nerves collecting, sticking to the inside of his stomach like barnacles. He needed to get this out of the way so he could think clearly tonight.

"Oh wow! Look how great these look! thanks so much, Lydia. I think Niki and Allison would like some as well!"

Lydia caught onto Scott's hint, and with one last dirty look jabbed at Stiles, she left the two of them alone.

"They all hate me, they hate us." Stiles lamenting as he took a sip of the sweet cocktail.

Stiles' sorrow filled eyes landed on Nikita who looked as stunning as always. He couldn't help but to gawk, she looked angelic, ethereal, like the night of Winter Formal. White paper lanterns hung loosely from the gazebo above her, illuminating the apples of her cheeks. She was a glowing goddess and didn't even know it. He could see her dazzling smile and caught a glimpse of the single dimple on her cheek, the dimple he loved so much. She was wearing a crisp white dress with a plunging neckline. A black bow hugged at her petite waste, and her dark brown hair cascaded past her shoulders in loose ringlets. Upon the average eye one would claim her as too thin. Stiles thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was stunning, she was untouchable...She wasn't his. He would be reminded time after time.

"How did the dinner go?" Stile said, hoping to change the subject, his attention coming back to his friend.

Scott took a large swig of the sweet floral cocktail, surprised by how good it actually tasted. Uncertain if there even was alcohol in this.

" That's what I have to talk to you about..."

Stiles looked to Scott with worry, finally picking up Scott's disquiet manner. "Did something happen?"

Scott swallowed thickly, taking the next few seconds to pick out the right words to say. There was no way to sugar coat any of this, or try to bring down the urgency of this newly sprung situation.

"Well during the dinner.."

Stiles leaned in closely, curiously hanging onto every dripping word.

"Mr. Grace...Uhm. Dr. Grace- Walter...Proposed to my mother." Scott spat out, his face flinching upon such rushed words.

He expected Stiles to throw his hands in the air and vent out, maybe curl up into a ball on the floor, or possibly attempt to drown himself in the pool. Something outlandish, something dramatic, something Stiles like. But instead his best friend was dead silent, it was as though he hadn't heard Scott in the first place. Silence from Stiles only meant two things, he was either in deep thought, about to discover something, or he was so angry that he couldn't even begin to understand the situation.

Scott was hoping it was the first instance.

He carried on. "They want to get married in June. And Walter asked me to be his Best Man…."

Scott watched Stiles violently chug the pink concoction, never stopping for air. A wet thin stream dribbled out the corner of his mouth to roll and soak into his flannel. Stiles's grip hardened around the round cup, his hand threatening to crush the plastic. His right eye was beginning to twitch and a reddish flush blossomed on his face. Scott sloshed the drink around in the cup, wondering if he should go on and state the obvious.

"That means I'll be moving in with Nikita shortly." He said, letting out an exhausted breath. "That means that we'll be-"

" STEP SIBLING!" Stiles snapped with impatience and wiped the back of his mouth with his sleeve, he threw the empty cup behind him in a careless manner.

The party was starting to fill up, people watched Stiles making a scene. Stiles had never snapped at him, they never even had a single argument. He and Stiles weren't just best friends, they were brothers, practically attached at the hips. They never faced a bump in the road; this was new. Scott understood this wasn't Stiles freaking out at him, but rather the situation they had found themselves in.

"Yeah I get it Scott! Freakin' step siblings!" Stiles sharply sucked in air through his teeth "This is just great, I need another drink."

"I honestly didn't think this would happen." Scott defended in a hushed whisper. "Not so soon anyways!"

Stiles grabbed another full cup as Lydia passed by, she stared daggers at him like he was the scum of the earth; at the moment he felt lower than scum.

" **Yeah I get it! YOU HATE ME!** " He barked at Lydia, but Lydia ignored him, going off to delightfully welcome more guests.

"We'll figure this out Stiles, don't worry." Scott was trying so hard to console his friend, trying to get him calm because Scott himself was on the verge of going into a fresh frenzy of panic.

Stiles took a large swig of his drink before almost spitting it out.

"Don't worry?Don't worry!?." His voice going back to being quiet and secretive. " Allison distanced herself from Nikita to keep her safe, Derek distanced himself from Nikita to get her away from the supernatural! I had to break up with her in the cruelest way because I was the last thing connecting her to this stupid supernatural world! We all had to make sacrifices! I lost out on someone I really cared for, Scott, and I hardly got a chance with her! Then my best friend, who is a werewolf, the very thing that embodies the supernatural, mind you, is moving in with her!"

Scott took a large chug of the drink as well, finishing it within seconds. The sweet flowery taste danced on his taste buds before the familiar bitterness of vodka set in.

Stiles's eyes widened as realization hit him like a wrecking ball to the dick. His voice grew even softer now, shaky even.

'I broke up with her for nothing." He whispered "I dumped her...Over nothing. All the things I said to her that night…"

"It wasn't for nothing." Scott said "You were only trying to protect her. We all were. We were doing what we thought was ri-"

Stiles shook his head. "I need fresh air."

"...You're outside."

With an agitated sigh, Stiles walked away, leaving Scott by himself.

Guilt came rushing through the flood gates. While this should have been somewhat joyus news, his mother was getting married, Scott was absolutely petrified. Stiles was right about it all, everything they had put Nikita through was for nothing. And now he was questioning his morality, his integrity. Scott always believed he had good intentions, he always trusted his judgement. But everything lately was slipping between the cracks of his fingers.

The Beta hung his head in shame, watching Stiles walk to the end of the yard. He felt as though he was to blame. Scott was going to give his best friend room to breathe, he decided to go find Allison, maybe he could apologize to her, maybe tonight didn't have to be so horrible after all.

Scott looked across the pool to see both Nikita and Allison were gone. He took one last swig of his drink before pushing his way through the masses. Lydia was known for throwing the grandest parties, but Scott didn't expect all of Beacon Hills to be here. He sure hoped that Jonesy would arrive soon so they could sort this mess out.

Scott found himself feeling slightly dizzy, his eye sight rather fuzzy. A wave of heat washed over his body, his shaking fingers now removing his tie when he stepped into the house. He moved past the kitchen, almost tripping over his own feet. Scott was clumsy, unbalanced, thrown off his equilibrium. But he was normally a sure footed individual with excellent depth perception and hand eye coordination. Beads of sweat slowly formed on the back of his neck. He remembered squeezing his eyes shut and once they opened he was at the bottom of the marble steps leading to the second story of the house.

His eyes must have been deceiving him, what he was seeing could not have possibly been true. Allison was laying on her back, on the bay window seat at the top of the stairs. Jackson was on top of her his lips peppered kisses along her neck, Allison's head rolled back in pure ecstasy. Scott could feel his blood boiling, his grip hardened over the iron banister, so much that he caused a slight bend.

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\- Nikita's POV-

"You two need a drink, like right now." Lydia said with a sly smile. She held up a serving tray, two pink cocktails waiting for Nikita and Allison.

Nikita scrunched her nose at the sight of alcohol, still traumatized by the last time she had gone out drinking at the Jungle Club. The smell of vodka reminded her of how bile tasted on the tip of her tongue.

"What is this?" Nikita observing the fruity cocktail with purple petals floating through it. " Were you possessed by an angry Martha Stewart? Or did you find this on a demonic pinterest board?"

With a laugh Allison shook her head. "I'm in no mood to drink tonight."

The red-head rolled her eyes at them, clearly disappointed. "First off, it's my birthday. Second of all, what is wrong with you two? You're sucking the fun out of everything."

Nikita and Allison glanced at each other with confusion, Nikita could write a long list of what was wrong with her, hell she could write a book and publish it.

"What are you talking about?" Allison asked. "We're fine."

Lydia cocked her head to the side, towards where Stiles and Scott were, across the pool, talking amongst each other.

"Allison..." Lydia started. "You and Scott may have just had an argument, but he's still crazy about you, it doesn't take a genius like myself to figure it out. He looks like a sad lost puppy. Whatever it was, he's clearly sorry about it! Go kiss and make up with him!"

Lydia's olive colored eyes landed on Nikita next, the brunette swallowed thickly not wanting to be a part of this conversation. "And you, I still stand by the fact that you can do better than Stiles. But damn! I WISH someone would look at me the way Stiles looks at you.

Nikita's eyes gazed across the pool and found his familiar warm brown eyes staring back at her. For once he didn't pretend to look away, he held his steady gaze. A sad smile tugged at his lips.

"That is the look of a man trying to win back the love of his life." Lydia whispered behind her shoulder.

"What you guys had may have been short, but it was intense and real. I know you still have feelings for him...It's okay, Nikita." Her friend pointing out.

She wished Lydia would just stop. This was cruel. Nikita's feelings for Stiles never ran out, she still felt so deeply about him and hated it. It wasn't fair to have feelings for the person who hurt you the most. Stiles had turned his back on Nikita when she needed him the most, and she still wanted him. She wanted back the Stiles that would sit and binge Golden Girls with her, the one who would take care of her, make her hangover breakfasts and cheer for her from the sidelines.

All too quickly Nikita looked away, directing her attention to Lydia instead of Stiles.

"On second thought, I wouldn't mind a drink." She said, pushing Stiles out of her thoughts. Allison nodded with agreement and the two girls grabbed a cocktail. Lydia went off to tend more guests.

The two girls were in silent competition to see who could chug their drink the fastest, hoping to forget everything they heard and hoping to numb everything they felt.

Matt cautiously approached the two girls while they were mid chug.

"Hey, Nikita, mind if we talk?" There he was with that sad sorrowful voice of his, eyes screaming 'I'm the nice guy!'

Nikita held out a finger, holding him there in silence. She was going to need this entire drink if she wanted to put up with Matt. Allison had only consumed half her drink, finding it to be enough. Her dark eyes danced between Matt and Nikita, already picking up on the tension.

Nikita finally finished her drink, using her thumb to dab the corner of her lips, careful not to smudge her red lipstick. "Alright, fine. What do you want to say?"

"Not here." Matt keeping his voice low and cocking it towards the upstairs of the home.

Allison sensing Nikita's unease valiantly stepped in. "I don't think she wants to talk in private."

"I don't think this involves you." Matt growled at her and had the audacity to take a few steps forward and get in Allison's face. Although she was surprised by Matt's sudden show of aggression, Allison didn't flinch. Her face remained calm, her brown doe eyes studied the man that stood before her. Assessing him for what he truly was.

Nikita intervened, wanting to put a stop to the situation before it escalated. The last thing that needed to happen was a fight or a loud argument at Lydia's birthday party. She knew how special this night was for her best friend.

"It's okay Allison, I'll give him five minutes."

"Five minutes." Allison repeating, reaffirming. She even grabbed her phone and set a timer, clearly not trusting Matt. She watched Nikita and Matt walk into the house.

Nikita and Matt entered Lydia's room. Neither of them said a thing upon entering the room, she lost all respect and patience for Matt. Was he really going to try and play the sympathy card with her? convince her what she saw wasn't what it really seemed? No. She knew perfectly well what she saw, there was no doubting it.

Matt was busy looking at a framed photo on top of Lydia's dresser. A photograph of Nikita and Danny, the day they went to the mall, the day they first met Alex. It made Nikita feel sick to her stomach that he was even looking at the photo, had Matt possibly been at the mall as well? She cleared her throat, catching his attention.

"We wasted a minute getting up here, and you just wasted another minute. That leaves you with three minutes."

Matt ran his fingers through his dark hair in frustration, looking so gutted and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Look Nik I-"

"Don't call me that." Nikita not caring how blunt she sounded then, only Stiles would call her that. And now she was wondering how many times Matt had watched her and Stiles. Matt was maybe trying to use that nickname to garner her trust.

She was far from trusting anyone these days. He was playing a symphony for an empty stadium.

He started again, this time the agitation was evident in his voice for he knew there was no coming out on top. "You know people in the photography world call them candids."

"I'm pretty sure the police would call them cause for a restraining order." Nikita said in a sarcastic voice.

Matt's eyes darkened and his expression turned hard when he realized there was no swaying Nikita. The soft, friendly exterior he was known for dissolved, giving Nikita a glimpse of what was truly hiding inside.

"You think you're something special...Don't you." He licked his bottom lip and took a step towards her, but Nikita stood her ground, he was trying to intimidate her. Nikita had seen scarier things than Matt. She never thought happy-go-lucky Matt could be so cold, or look so sadistic.

"You think that since you're the daughter of a rich doctor people need to bow before you, you're an entitled little shit, Nikita. People in this town could care less." Another step towards her so that she could smell the sharp musk of his cologne.

"You think I want to be with you?" Matt said in a mocking laugh, his darkened eyes narrowed on her, sizing her down. "let me make this clear, I feel sorry for you, because everyone out there -"

He was mere inches away from her, the palm of his hand gently stroked the top of her head like she was a naive child who couldn't comprehend a single word he spoke. Nikita could feel the bottom of her lip starting to quiver, truth was like a splinter. Nikita tried avoiding it, but it was right there, digging deeper and deeper day by day.

"-thinks you're a freak. You should be happy i'm even giving you any atte-"

Nikita didn't give Matt a second longer as her fist connected with his stomach, driving it with all her might. Matt let out an "oomph!" And immediately doubled over, a chain of saliva slowly dropped from his mouth to land on top of his shoes. Then he fell to his knees before Nikita like a rock, she had knocked the wind out of him. Matt let out a harsh wheeze his face red and bright, then he curled into a ball and held his stomach.

" Sorry for stopping you there." Nikita said in a disinterested voice, refusing to show any emotion in front of him, because that's what he would have wanted. "But you were going past your five minutes."

Nikita stepped over Matt, not caring if she was the cause of his pain or not. Maybe her reaction was over the top, Nikita not one for violence, but lately...it seemed to be the only answer.

By the time she entered the end of the hall her mind was already swimming through a thick cloud of a haze. The music from downstairs felt like it were glorious sparks igniting through her and feeding the muscles that coiled around her bones. This feeling was far too familiar. It wasn't possible to be feeling so highly buzzed from one drink. No, this was more than buzzed. It was hard to focus on how she was feeling physically.

She was livid, Nikita tried so hard not to let Matt's words penetrate her. But he was right, everyone here pitied her. No one was truly her friend, even with the smiles they wore around her. They all thought she was crazy. She thought of all the Eichen House brochures that were stuffed in her locker, her visits with Miss. Morrell. Nikita could feel the sting of tears as they blurred her line of vision. Nobody understood her, nobody understood what she had seen the night of Winter Formal. She herself didn't even understand what she had seen. Nikita's hands wrapped around the bannister, the alcohol was really starting to click in, and her six inch heels weren't helping.

Nikita looked down at the first marble step just before her. Why did it look so far away? Her eyes unable to process the spatial field. It was Scott who caught her attention, he stood at the bottom of the steps, quiet, dazed. His darkened glance focused on the bay window. His dark brows were pressed together, his nostrils flaring with anger, she could see the sudden twitch in his jaw. Nikita took a few wobbly steps down from the top of the staircase, holding tightly to the bannister.

"Scott?" Her own voice bouncing in her head as if she were locked in an echo chamber. Had she even spoken his name aloud?

Nikita was curious and seriously concerned for Scott's well being. Admittedly he was a weird dude with lots of issues to start with, but she had never seen him like this before. Clearly, even with her faded mind, Nikita could tell something was wrong. She called his name once more, but he didn't answer. Instead, his breathing became short and shallow. The hatred flickering behind his dark brown eyes sent a bundle of nerves to Nikita's stomach. It fueled her need to get to him faster. Nikita dared to take another step towards him, her heel slipped on the slick marble, Nikita's eyes shot wide when she lost balance. Somehow she caught herself on the bannister before she could tumble down the stairs.

Her respect for Lydia skyrocketed, how the red-head did this every day was beyond her. Nikita's hand came to rest over her heart, steading her rapidly beating heart, she had given herself such a scare. She even let out a small laugh, impressed with how she caught herself.

Nikita swallowed thickly, she had only gone four steps down from the top of the stairs, the rest looked like a long death trap. She let go of the bannister and stood erect, tugging at the end of her dress to straighten it out. Nikita wasn't about to make an ass out of herself in front of her future stepbrother. With far too much concentration than any normal person needs, she made it to the last few steps before coming to the bay window. There were still nine more steps down to reach Scott.

She looked to him, he was so transfixed on the window, perhaps he was staring at her, for she was standing in his line of vision. Nikita looked to him, he was absolutely frozen in place, then the window, back to him, and the window again.

While staring at the window she could feel the heat slipping beneath her skin, like a fever taking ahold of her. Her vision starting to tunnel, blacken until there was nothing in her sight but the window itself. Nikita's focus now on a single red beam of light behind the trees, like that of the end of a lit cigarette. Until it split in two, two glowing red lights. And then she understood…

They were eyes, red savage eyes.

Not a whisper escaped. Nikita was absolutely paralyzed with fear, helpless as death stared right into her once more.

The monster jumped through the window propelling itself towards her, along with hundreds of tiny jagged shards of glass. Her body jolted backwards, Nikita threw herself off the edge of the step. This was all too familiar, she had been here once before, the night of Winter Formal.

Except this time someone was there to catch her.

Scott snapped out of his wolfbane-induced delirium in time to see Nikita falling. Her head would crack like an egg against the hard marble had he not caught her in his arms . They both went tumbling backwards. Scott's eyes squeezed shut as his head bounced off the marble, the impact caused a thin crack on the floor. Nikita immediately sat up, hysterical and frightened.

"Did you see it!? Please tell me you saw it! Please!" She pleaded with a choked up voice, her eyes glued on to the window which only a nanosecond ago was shattered. The window was pristine and untouched.

He could feel her shaking. Whatever she had seen must have been extremely horrifying for her to be panicking like this. Scott didn't get a chance to answer when a few people passed by crawling on their hands and knees...making odd animal noises. Nikita and Scott glanced at each other in confusion.

Her head sunk into her hands, for she had been here not too long ago. Only when she caught her breath and calmed her rapid beating heart did she speak. "We've all been drugged. Trust me, I know."

"That's nice." Scott wheezing out. "Could you maybe get off my windpipe?"

"Oh, Nikita rolled off of him. "Thanks' for being my landing pad."

Scott stood up, extending his hand to Nikita, who hesitated for a second before taking it.

"C'mon." His head cocking towards the door that lead to the backyard. "Something tells me Stiles isn't doing so well right now."

* * *

-Stiles' POV-

"Oh god. This can't be real."

Stiles watched wide eyed while his own father berated him in front of everyone at the party.

There was a lump forming in the back of his throat now, his father was accusing him for his mother's passing. He could feel the sting of tears welling in his eyes, but he wasn't going to cry, not here.

Part of him wanted to believe that this wasn't real, he wished with all his might that this was some terrible dream that he would wake from. But he could smell the spice of his father's cologne mingling with Whisky, which he clutched in his hands. Stiles could see the spray of spittle as his father shouted at him. His father threw his black tie to the floor with force and pointed at Stiles with a shaky bottle.

"You're the reason she's gone! You are the reason why everything is so wrong in my goddamn life!"

The bottle was hurled towards Stiles.

Instinctively he shut his eyes as the glass came flying at him. Stiles expected the harsh blow of the blunt object...But it never came.

Instead a soft warm touch caressed the side of his face, like silk gliding across his cheek. The intoxicating smell of white jasmine wafted in the air, right away he could feel the tension in his body dissolving away and the sensation of pure bliss filling his weary heart...He could get drunk off her scent alone.

He opened his eyes to see two dark earthy mossy eyes staring back at him. His hand grabbed hers and held it against his cheek, it was an impulsive decision, stupid of him, but he couldn't help himself. It had been forever since he felt her touch, the simple pleasure he could never get enough of. Everything was so beautiful and pure in that moment that it brought pin prickles to his flesh. Stiles closed his eyes just to intensify and relish the feel of her skin against his, the warmth of her hand on his cold cheek. And when he opened them, she was still there.

Nikita didn't pull away, instead she tilted her head the slightest, a look of concern worked across her face.

"Are you okay, Stiles?" Her thumb gently brushing against the apple of his cheek.

All Stiles could do was nod, afraid his voice would shake if he tried to speak. He would embarrass himself in front of Nikita. His emotions betrayed him, a fresh tear escaped. Stiles was still reeling from his father's cruel outrage.

"You're not okay." She said knowingly. Her thumb gently brushed against his cheek and wiped his tear away.

His watery brown eyes looked to her, the world would be cruel if this were some sort of joke. It would absolutely destroy him.

Stiles let her hand down gently, fingers lacing with hers. He inhaled and held his breath, waiting to see how Nikita would react to him holding her hand. This was pushing it, it was wrong of him to be holding her hand. Stiles knew he didn't deserve her kindness, he didn't deserve any form of affection from her.

The slightest of smiles pulled at her lips, revealing her single dimple. She took a few steps back, playfully tugging him with her. Nikita leaned against a pillar and guided Stiles' hand to her hip. His eyes lit up with elation. Nikita was truly giving him a second chance, allowing him to touch her, be near her. He leaned in close, unable to resist the urge of wanting to taste her lips one more time. Nikita slipped away with a giggle when he tried to lean in. Stiles couldn't help but to smile like a little boy, he didn't mind chasing her, in fact he loved the chase and her alluring playful nature. Stiles wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve as Nikita sauntered off, throwing him a wink over her shoulder. He followed behind her like a lost puppy. Nikita walked into the thickest part of the crowd, near the dance floor. She twirled around, allowing the bottom of her white dress to flare about. With a wide smile she curled her finger and gave Stiles a "come hither" motion.

He was so struck by her beauty and coyness that Stiles had to look over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't motioning someone behind him.

Stiles couldn't stop smiling, pushing his way past the gormless sea of bodies, trying to get to her. But she was faster than him, working her way easily through the crowd. Nikita was starting to disappear amongst the party goers, but Stiles wasn't going to let her go this time. He managed to grab a hold of her hand before she could push her way out of the crowd. Nikita froze, her back towards him, his hand still wrapped gently around her thin wrist.

That's when Stiles noticed a slow song playing over the speakers, one by one couples embraced each other and began to dance. He tugged at her hand, and she turned around, dark long strands of hair whipping the side of her face.

Nikita used no words, instead her smile returned and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled her close so her head could rest against his shoulder, and together they rocked back and forth to the slow steady beat. The two of them felt the rhythm and the melody of the music as it swayed their bodies. Nikita pressed herself into him, her fingers slightly dug into his shirt, as if any moment she could be torn away from him. His hand came to rest on the back of her head, keeping her there.

"I like you." He blurted out. He wanted to smack himself in the face, why did he sound like a ten year old? Why couldn't he allow himself to express how intensely he felt for her? Was he so desperate to keep the wall between them ironclad?

He could feel her cheeks pulling upwards, Nikita smiling against his chest "You like me? You sure have a weird way of showing it."

Stiles pulled her in even closer "Was I not obvious enough? How many times have you caught me staring at you?"

"And this entire time I was convinced there was just something on my face." Nikita joking with him, looking up at him so their noses were almost touching, before tucking her face back in again.

Stiles let out a chuckle. Even though he was in the midst of a disaster with homicidal Gerard Argent playing them and Jackson killing off people one by one he was able to laugh, it felt good to laugh again. Stiles lifted her chin so he could look her in the eyes, he wanted her to understand what he was going to say next.

"I never stopped caring about you, Nik. And i'm so sorry for hurting you. Even if you ever forgive me, I will never forgive myself."

Stiles edged even closer to her, inhaling her pleasant scent, their lips were only inches apart. It almost felt like the night of the dance. "I never stopped thinking about you, please believe me."

He didn't mean for his voice to crack. Every emotion seemed to flood out of him for his feelings for her were so raw and visceral. "I love you."

Stiles closed his eyes and leaned for a kiss

"Then why did you leave me?" She whispered.

The biting cold water caused his eyes to open wide, all the sudden he was yanked backwards, Scott holding the back of his shirt. Scott had just dunked his head into a fountain, effectively ripping him out of his drug fueled trip. Nikita was right next to Scott, she looked to the Beta with concern.

She then crossed her arms, a sly grin formed on her face. "I don't think it worked. One more time should suffice."

Scott shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Will this help with our friendship?"

Nikita tapped at her chin, thinking for a moment. "I wouldn't call it a friendship…"

Scott shrugged. "It's worth a try."

"What the h-" Stiles tried to shout.

But Scott had dunked Stiles's head back into the dirty cold water. Stiles came back for air and slapped Scott's hands away. Scott gave Nikita a cheeky grin and she burst into laughter, trying hard to hide her smile behind her hands.

"I just had to double check you weren't still tripping out." The Beta confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. "Plus you were trying to kiss the air, dude."

"Whatever."" Stiles thought bitterly, a crimson flushed his cheeks. They weren't even step siblings yet and already they were already cohorting. If this was any indication for what the future would hold with these two, Stiles wanted out.

"What the hell happened?" Stiles asked while tapping his right ear with his palm, pushing out any water.

"Everyone here has been...drugged." Nikita said as she looked at the chaotic scene around her. People were on the ground unable to get up, some others practically had their faces pressed to the speakers. Most of them had blank dazed expressions on their faces as they danced far too aggressively.

It wasn't real, none of what he had seen had been real. And now he was absolutely devastated, only getting a taste of what he and Nikita could have been. Stiles ran his fingers over his wet short hair, he must have been drugged, wandering around the party, following what he believed was Nikita. He would have followed her straight into hell if it were to happen.

That's when Stiles saw Jackson, right across the pool. His blue eyes were dead set on the three of them. Stiles swallowed thickly, unaware that Nikita had peeled off his side in the two seconds it took Stiles to stare Jackson down. Before making her leave Nikita went to the punch table, and with what little strength she possessed, tipped it over, putting her shoulder into it. The punch fountain and table toppled over and came crashing to the ground with a loud metallic scream. Then the crowd started booing at her, calling out 'party foul' left and right. The concrete floor suckling greedily at the tainted pink concoction. An empty red solo cup went flying to hit Nikita in the back, then dozens more followed to shower at her. Nikita turned around sticking both her middle fingers in the air.

"You are SO welcome! You undeserving assholes!" She screamed while bending forward to take off her heels and marching right off.

He ran out the back door and caught up to her, she was walking barefoot on the street, high heels in hand.

"You shouldn't be walking home alone at this time." He said, desperately hoping she would spend a little more time with him.

"I'll be fine Stiles." Nikita deadpanned, not even looking at him.

"Where's your car? Do you need a ride? I can give you a lift." He offered, hoping she would say yes. This was the longest conversation they had held in a long time.

"I'm only two blocks away. You already know this." Her voice drained of all patience.

He didn't want to push her any further, so instead he watched her walk away and disappear around the corner. Stiles turned back to the house, head hanging low. He joined Scott's side, who looked just as crummy as him.

The night had been a fail. Jonesy never showed up to the party, they all had been drugged, and Nikita still didn't want to be near him. Stiles closed his eyes and exhaled through his nostrils, how he wished he could have gone back to his drug induced trip. He had told Nikita he loved her, but now she would never know.

Everyone around them seemed to be having the time of their lives, a few people even jumped into the pool. Others were dragging each other into the pool, one even managed to drag Matt in. He was thrashing in the water, calling for help. Scott's eyes narrowed on Matt as he bobbed up and down, his head dipping below the water.

"I can't swim! I can't swim!" He shouted! Matt was in such fear that Stiles could see the whites of his eyes. His hands shooting in the air hoping someone would yank him out. Stiles made a move to help Matt, but Scott's hand came to hold him back.

"Wait." Was all Scott said. Stiles didn't question his friend, Scott must have had a reason for this.

Jackson plunged into the pool and effortlessly dragged Matt out.

Scott and Stiles stood still, both of their jaws nearly hitting the floor in disbelief.

"The cops are here!" Someone shouted right as the bright red and blue sirens lit up the backyard. "We're getting rolled!"

A stampede of people ran out, Stiles and Scott were lost amongst the crowd. But they managed to catch a glimpse of Matt who was shaking with anger, the look of pure hatred burned like fire behind his eyes. A scaly green tail wrapped around him in a protective manner, the Kanima let out a small hiss.

Stiles could feel his stomach dropping to his feet, he was wrong this entire time, never had he been so off.

It was Matt, not Jonesy.

Matt was the one controlling the Kanima.

* * *

\- Nikita's POV-

The walk back home wasn't exactly quiet and peaceful like she had hoped. From here she could hear the loud muffled bass and trebles of terrible EDM music floating in the air to meet the screeching of sirens. The party was probably getting destroyed right about now, cop cars speeding past her heading towards Lydia',s reds and blues reflected on the wet black pavement. Nikita kept to herself, speeding home. She needed this walk, it was helping her sober up, the cold wind making sure of it.

Her mind was racing with so many vivid and wild thoughts. She knew for a fact that she had been drugged before, having tripped on the same kind of hallucinogen at Jungle Club. Except this time it wasn't just her, it was the entire party. And now that she was thinking of it, no one had seen Lydia with a drink in her own hand, except for when she was passing them out. Nikita chuckled to herself, was she truly accusing her closest and only friend of drugging her? Would Lydia breach her trust like this? Nikita didn't know what to think anymore, it was hard to trust anyone. The small pool of people she could rely on was starting to dry, and now the cracks were running deep.

Constantly she found herself going back and forth about what she had seen the night of Winter Formal. It was so crisp and clear in her mind's eye. The black wiry fur standing on end, the straight white razor teeth that glistened with saliva, the red savage eyes. Nikita believed in herself, the only one who truly did. But she had to get rid of any evidence of the inner workings of her mind. Because people would see it, and make her feel bad, and then she would start doubting herself. It was a few days ago when she threw out her sketchbook, all the loose pieces of papers with drawings, and the same question scrawled over and over again.

However, tonight those eyes came after her.

Nikita reached her driveway and opened the grey lid of the recycling bin. Inside was her collection of thoughts. Everything that had anchored her confirmations and beliefs. She reached inside, not caring if her white dress got dirtied in the process. Nikita had to practically dive in like an idiotic racoon to grasp even a single piece of paper, her legs dangling off the edge of the bin. She had finally managed to snag a page, pulling herself out of the bin.

Her eyes looked across the single paper to see it contained a half finished image of the wolf type creature that haunted her. Scrawled across the entirety were the words "Are you scared, Nikita Grace?" Over and over again, practically filling the page. She found it oddly cathartic writing the words multiple times, taking the fear out of them, and making it into something ordinary that no longer caused her to flinch.

A sudden gust of wind blew her skirt upwards, forcing Nikita to let go of the page and grab the hem of her dress. The paper floated above her, taunting her to reach for it. Another sharp gust and it flew from her. Nikita turned around to see the paper had pressed itself flat onto Jonesy's chest.

He stood there with his grey hoodie up, a familiar white box held in his left hand, a sea foam green ribbon tied at the top. It was from the Bakery. Before Nikita could do a thing, he peeled the paper off his chest and looked at it. Jonesy's vibrant eyes took in everything, reading the words 'Are you scared, Nikita Grace?' and taking in the image of the wolf. His wild eyebrows pinching together for a moment, then looking up at her with cold confusion.

Once the wind died, Nikita went to snatch the paper right out of his hands.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She didn't care for kindness.

"I finished closing up at the Bakery, and I know how much you like these." He motioned over to the box which probably contained her favorite thing in the world, Olivia Jones' scrumptious buttery red velvet cupcakes. So decadent that even thinking of them made her mouth water.

"I was going to drop them off at your door, aren't you supposed to be at Lydia's party? It's not even midnight..."

"I don't want the cupcakes, I want you to get far away from me." Nikita crumpled the paper in her fist, wishing Jonesy had never seen it.

Jonesy didn't look hurt, or impatient. And that upset her more than anything. His reaction was understanding. She wanted him to clash with her like Matt had so she had more reason to hate him. He stood there instead, lowering his hoodie to look less intimidating, and slowly placing the box of cupcakes at her feet. Jonesy was careful in keeping an invisible barrier between them. Respecting her space to not scare her off.

"We really need to talk." The way he said it sounded like it was non negotiable.

That was it. That was what set her off the edge. Nikita wanted to yank her hair out with frustration, her hands even gripping at her roots. "Why so you can tell me that what I thought I heard was wrong? I'm sick of everyone telling me I'm wrong! I know what i've seen, I know what i've heard!"

Jonesy shook his head listening to her, she was a hell cat bristling in fury, his words would only fall deaf upon her ears. "Nikita there's a lot happening that you don't understand! And that's not your fault-"

"I don't need you to tell me how I should think and feel!" Her voice growing gradually louder on purpose, to wake the neighbors and spook Jonesy off.

"You've gotten so slim Nikita, you're not healthy anymore. You've grown erratic, distant, paranoid. It all just needs to stop. I'm not walking on egg shells anymore. You can't keep avoiding me!"

"I'll avoid you as much as I want!" Nikita jutted out her chin. "I don't need anyone!"

Jonesy brought his fingers to play with the chords of his hoodie to reel himself back from grabbing Nikita's shoulders and forcing her to listen. "I need you to calm down and listen to me so I can just explain-"

She stepped towards Jonesy so that the two of them were squaring off. He looked down on her small figure. Telling Nikita to calm down tended to have the opposite effect on her. She gave Jonesy a sharp shove, but he was a brick wall who stood still, her efforts fruitless. Nikita was done, having dealt with Matt already not too long ago, her patience had run thin.

" I WANT YOU TO JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"

That alone woke the neighborhood. One by one yellow glares of lights flickered on from the homes that surrounded them. The neighbor across from her sticking their head out to make sure all was well. This had Jonesy frazzled as he looked around him. There was no privacy now.

Her bare heel came down to crush the box of cupcakes, white frosting oozing from the sides. Jonesy cringed at her defiance, letting out a long sigh and taking the hint. She was trying to make a point, simple delicacies were no way of apologizing for Nikita, she would not be bought, and she would not be swayed.

"Why are you still here!?" Nikita standing with her hands on her hips, digging into the box again like one putting out a cigarette.

There was nothing left to say between them. Jonesy turned on his heels and walked off her driveway. Once he had vanished around the corner Nikita quickly picked up the box, opening it to see most of the cupcakes were still intact. She was not going to waste something as addicting as this over someone as conniving like Jonesy.

* * *

Yet again Nikita was hitting the bottom of an ice cream carton, she was becoming a pro at emotional eating. And this time she had those beautiful red velvet cupcakes with her. Hell, she could put every Bridgette Jones loving, PMS-ing, emotionally constipated girl to shame with her eating game. Stuffing one cupcake after the other in her mouth, chasing it with cream ice cream, chasing that with a mouthful of whipped cream straight out of the can. Even still she wasn't gaining a single pound, nothing was satiating her. Nikita thought of how Jonesy pointed out her being unhealthy and frail. She was thining, growing weaker and tired each and every day; even Lydia who had her own problems to deal with had grown concerned for Nikita. Walter, however, who was sitting next to her,watching I Love Lucy, was as calm as always. He wasn't the world's greatest father, but he was a renowned doctor. Sas he oblivious to her disintegrating figure?

It was no matter, she didn't want to spoil his mood. Walter was still glowing from the proposal from earlier. He hadn't stopped grinning since Nikita came home, she suspected he had been grinning all night. Since she had moved back, she had never seen him so happy, maybe things would change for the better after the wedding. It was the only slice of hope she could hold onto.

Nikita tilted her head back and pushed the nozzle on the can of whipped cream. Walter scrunched his nose in distaste, mortified by his daughter's cave-man like manners. Nikita sunk further into the couch, happy she was in sweatpants.

"Want some?" Nikita offered jokingly, to her surprise Walter took off his reading glasses and tilted his head back.

"Yeah I can hang, fire the cannons!"

Nikita let out a laugh at him trying to sound youthful. She pressed the nozzle of the can and the whipped cream began to froth out of his mouth, Walter attempted to let out a laugh as well, but almost coughed out the whipped cream, it sputtered out of his mouth.

"Never doing that again." He joked, using his thumb to wipe off the sticky excess on the collar of his shirt.

"Oh c'mon, it wasn't that bad! That's how the cool kids do it, old man!" Nikita shaking the can to take another shot of whipped cream herself.

"I'm far from cool, kid." He went back to his crossword puzzle, finding that it helped him unwind after a long shift. "How are you liking those cupcakes?"

He didn't hear an answer, Walter looked up from his crossword puzzle to see Nikita's mouth was stuffed with said cupcakes. It was evident she enjoyed them very much. He took a moment to appreciate her presence. It wasn't often these two got to spend time together, and here they sat, late night, relaxing on the couch and watching Married With Children reruns. But for now he had to get to bed, for tomorrow would be yet another long tiring day.

Walter got up and stretched his long arms with a yawn. "Alright, I'm off to bed, I probably won't see you until tomorrow night. Try to get some rest."

Nikita gave him a small tired smile. "I'll try, goodnight!"

Walter planted a sloppy wet kiss on her forehead, leaving a trace of whipped cream. Nikita groaned in disgust, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. That's when a familiar scent wafted in the air, the discreet scent of something similar like sandalwood, maybe citrus. Perhaps the lingering scent of Old Spice. It was the scent of Stiles.

How had she not noticed before? She was wearing grey sweatpants and a red hoodie over her white shirt; Stiles' red hoodie. He had given it to her the night of Jungle Club when she was climbing into the ambulance. Nikita grabbed the collar of the hooded jacket and brought it to her nose, inhaling the scent, liking it more than she cared to admit.

Her cell phone went off, causing her to jump.

Stiles' name flashed on her phone, the obnoxious generic ringtone cut through the silence. She stared at the bright blue screen, waiting for the right moment to pick it up so she didn't come off as desperate. Her hand hovered above the phone waiting for the perfect moment. After the fifth ring she finally picked it up.

"Stiles?"

"Hey Nik."

Immediately she picked up on the shakiness in his voice, his tone washed in a thick coat of fear. It caused the hair on her arms to stand on ends, Nikita now sitting on the edge of her seat.

"Stiles...Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." His voice much steadier this time, but even then she could hear his hesitance. Maybe he was scared of gathering the courage to call her. A knot tightened in Nikita's stomach as she waited for Stiles to carry on, like she was waiting for bad news. Her mind went a thousand miles per second trying to figure out what was happening. Her stomach hurting so terribly now, waiting for him to go on.

"Stiles!" She said with impatience.

"I found your car keys." He said rather plainly.

She let out a sigh of relief and sunk back into the couch, a smile of victory spread across her face, her hands blindly went back for more cupcakes, this was something to celebrate about.

" Sweet! When do you think you can drop them off?"

The line went silent for a while. Nikita pressed her ear against the phone to see if she could hear better, maybe she could pick up if he was with Scott, if they were whispering to each other.

"...Stiles?" Nikita licking cream cheese frosting off her thumb.

She could hear him clearing his throat "They are actually at my dad's office, I need you to to pick them up at the P.D."

Nikita blew a strand of hair off her face in frustration. "You're aware I can't drive because I don't have keys, right?

" I need you to come to the Beacon Hills Police Department." Stiles demanded.

The line went dead...

* * *

Please let me know what you thought of this chapter in the form of a review, especially if you've never reviewed before!

I need all the love, motivation, and validation I can get as we near the end of this story.

Thank you: Ferallahey for the advice, Recklessyouth for sitting on my document and yelling at me to write. Itbelongsinamuseum because I feel like I haven't thanked you enough!

If you haven't please check out my tumblr: Thehourofthegloaming for beautiful edits made by myself and my friends, questions, teasers for the next chapter and more!


	35. Chapter 35

Hey everyone! Here with a new update

shoutout to all of you who left me a review on the last chapter, thank you thank you thank you so much! Thank you to those of you who are binging through the story right now, I really hope you get to this point and see it. I appreciate it so much

Thank you to: Ferallahey and Recklessyouthinme for looking over this chapter.

I really struggled with this chapter, so I hope you guys don't find it to be disappointing. This is the last chapter before the three part season finale, so it is a short one. I can't believe i'm almost done with the first part of the series!?

I hope you guys enjoy this!

* * *

It's when you're staring down the barrel of a gun you realize all the things you could have done better in life.

Be a better student. Be a better son. Be a better friend. Kiss the girl you love.

All these regrets swimming to the surface as Matt's finger rested gently over the trigger.

One false move from any of them and Stiles would have a crater sized hole in his forehead. It was only minutes ago when he, Scott, and his father were making leeway with their investigation on Matt, finally able to pull concrete evidence against him.

But instead Matt was here, his shaky hand holding a gun right at Stiles. He never killed anyone before, that much was obvious, Stiles could see the fear behind Matt's eyes...But that didn't make him less dangerous. In fact it heightened his impulsiveness. Matt was a coward, having Jackson carrying out the killings for him. But that meant he would do anything to prove himself as anything else. Stiles' eyes traveled to the floor to see the receptionist face down in a puddle of her own blood, a wave of nausea hit him and he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

Stiles was forced to lock away his father like he were an animal. And Scott was forced to watch his best friend with a gun to his forehead. The two of them remained quiet, waiting on Matt's next batch of orders.

"We can help you." Scott pleaded.

The subtlest of smiles spread across Matt's thin trembling lips. "That's exactly why I'm here."

Matt lifted his left hand, the ring of a keychain hung on his forefinger, it was attached to a set of Mini Cooper car keys.

"I need you to make a call, Stiles."

* * *

The front door to the precinct shut, Stiles' stomach began to churn so violently that he could already taste bile on his tongue. His head dipped and he began to pray, it had been ages since he had done such a thing. "Please don't let it be Nikita"

"Hello?" Her voice echoed down the hall.

Stiles' eyes opened wide.

She was here.

Matt's right brow lifted, the sick spark of amusement danced behind his blue glassy eyes, an intense surge of excitement raked through Matt's body and he hopped off the desk with a smile.

"Sounds like our guest of honor is here!"

Matt ushered the two boys to the front like cattle, gun pressed against the back of Stiles' skull, his finger never daring to leave the trigger. Stiles could feel his heart rate picking up, his palms sweating. The walk to Nikita felt like the longest walk of his life, in effort to stall he would drag his feet, only to have Matt tap the back of his head with the gun. It was no use. Stiles had lured Nikita to a monster, and he was about to pay the price.

As soon as he saw her the smallest smile pulled at Stiles' lips. She was sporting Stiles' red hoodie, and in that moment he found a selfish sliver of hope, maybe Stiles still had a chance at redemption with Nikita. Too quickly he was reminded of the tangled web he laid trapped in when Matt tapped the back of his head with the revolver again, urging him to walk faster. She caught sight of Scott and Stiles, her brows furrowed together in annoyance, angry at the fact she had to bike all the way to the precinct in the dead of night.

That is until she noticed Stiles' bottom lip caked with blood from when Matt pistol whipped him earlier. Matt emerged from behind Stiles and pointed the gun at her. Immediately Nikita paled over and stumbled backwards, only to grab the edge of the front desk to balance herself.

"We didn't leave on good terms, did we, Nikita?" Matt's voice laced with a calm rage, a storm brewing under his skin that would leave everyone here tonight in ruins.

Stiles' mouth went dry, every inch of him shaking much like Nikita. All his fears were coming true. Tonight he would watch Nikita die at his feet. He needed to think of something fast.

"What are you doing?" Nikita asked with a small quivering voice. Her eyes glued on the gun, anticipating it to go off any moment.

Matt was a ticking time bomb about to implode, anything at this point seemed to trigger his fragile anger. Before Stiles could do anything Matt had Nikita by the wrist, gun right under her chin, forcing to look up at the ceiling. Stiles almost let out a cry at the sight of her in distress, he would do anything to get that gun back on him. But Matt had found a new prize. Nikita let out a loud gasp as her nails dug painfully through Matt's sleeve, by instinct Stiles took a step towards her. Both he and Scott had their hands up in surrender.

"It's us you want, Matt. C'mon just leave her alone." Scott was struggling to speak between heavy breaths, Stiles knew he was trying to control the wolf within him. It was a full moon and Scott was under so much pressure.

Matt locked eyes with Stiles, his menacing smile was like that of a devious child holding a magnifying glass over a marching line of ants. He was toying with Stiles, dangling the girl of his dreams before him. "Make another move Stilinski and I swear I will blow her brains against the ceiling."

Stiles could hear Nikita swallowing hard. "Stiles Stilinski, don't you dare move." She warned with the gun pressed uncomfortably under her chin. Nikita was looking at him from beneath her dark lashes, mossy eyes starting to fill with tears.

Stiles slowly put his arms down to not startle Matt, Scott doing the same. "How about we go talk about this somewhere? huh Matt?" Stiles trying to sound as calm as possible for Nikita's sake.

"Let's figure out what's been getting you down. We can work through this. That's why you're here, right?"

To his surprise Matt pulled the gun away from Nikita, his vice grip still wrapped around her arm, refusing to let her go. Clutching her like she were a life line, and perhaps she was.

"Alright, to the locker room then."

Nikita, Stiles, and Scott walked to the locker room, all three of their eyes darting back and forth trying to devise a plan. The gun never pointed at anything else other than Nikita. If Scott were to attack it would be too great of a risk, they would lose Nikita immediately. Nikita and Matt stood side by side, across from Scott and Stiles, the lockers behind them.

"Why are you doing this?" Scott finally asked.

Matt was pacing back and forth behind Nikita, the gun always pointed to the back of her head. Nikita, silent, kept her frightened eyes glued on Stiles. She was trying to find comfort there, a feeling of safety, a sign of reassurance. Something, anything that would hint at them being okay. Stiles wanted to hold her, let her know everything would be okay. But he knew if he even uttered a single word to her Matt wouldn't hesitate shooting her. So instead Stiles stood stiff, hands placed by his side where Matt could see.

"Why am I doing this?" Matt repeated Scott's question to himself. "Because I'm a nice guy!" Matt seethed, his face growing redder by the second "And nice guys like me get treaded all over!"

He stood behind Nikita, fingers curling into the red material of the hoodie to pull her close to him.

"Isn't that right Nikita?" His lips touching the top of her ear and Stiles could see her shudder in disgust. "Don't you just stomp all over guys like me?"

Nikita was looking at her feet, every ounce of her fighting back tears. "You can't force girls to like you, it doesn't work that way."

Her words triggered Matt; he stood behind her and pressed the gun to the side of her head "I want you two to look at each other." He ordered Stiles and Nikita. But she couldn't seem to lift her eyes from off the ground, looking at Stiles seemed too painful or too terrifying, for the glimmer of hope had dimmed in his eyes.

" **I SAID LOOK AT EACH OTHER**!" Matt's shouts echoed off the locker room walls and sent sickly shivers down Stiles' spine.

Her gaze cut across the room, head slowly lifting. Nikita's deep green eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over, locked onto his. It was like Stiles was staring into the eyes of a scared helpless child and there was nothing he could do. His gaze, mirrored hers. They were both so afraid and weak in this situation. Even Scott, who he wasn't looking at, had his back against a wall. His friend needed to calculate something, fast.

"Good, hold eye contact, and if I see a single tear drop...I'll kill the two of you right on the spot!" Matt shouting yet again.

Matt's attention turned to Stiles "You're an idiot you know that? I mean look at her, she's clearly out of your league. Guys like us don't get girls like her."

His gaze washed over Nikita's slender figure, pleased with what he saw. Matt's fingers stroked the side of her porcelain like skin, ran across her collarbone and finally rested on her shoulder. She flinched in disgust, him touching her was like acid across her skin, even then her gaze refused to leave Stiles.

Stiles swallowed thickly, his eyes glued on Nikita for fear Matt would stay true to his words "Yeah, I really screwed up, I should have never let her go." He admitted.

She was trembling in his arms, her frail body pulled tightly against Matt's and Stiles fought the instinct to rip her from his arms and shield her from the world. All she could really do was look at him, into his bourbon eyes and hope his sharp wit could get them out of this. But he wanted her to see that he was only protecting her, that everything he did was for her. He wished more than anything that he could have told her how he truly felt for her.

And now it was starting to dawn on both he and Scott, keeping secrets from Nikita never really kept her safe; somehow trouble managed to find her.

"I was the perfect gentleman." Matt's lips pressed against the shell of her ear again, yet his eyes stayed on Stiles watching and relishing in his expression. "Even after he humiliated you, even after he abandoned you, you crawl to him like some pathetic alley cat begging for more...And I thought I was sick and deranged.."

Stiles was seeing red, he shifted in his place, fingers curled to fists, and jaw clenched so tight his teeth could crumble. Stiles wasn't one to fight, he was far from athletic and his hand eye coordination was comparable to that of a newborn fawn... But his greatest weapon was his mind.

"I don't like being rejected, and I certainly don't like being made a fool of." Matt growled "and for that, you'll need to be punished."

Stiles' eyes widened, he sharply sucked in air through gritted teeth as Matt's fingers curled around the trigger "Wait!" He shouted.

Matt looked to him with impatience "Don't worry Stilinski, I'll be sure to kill you after I take care of her."

" How long will it take for the cops to figure out dispatch isn't responding!?" Stiles finally spat out after remembering Matt ordered Jackson to kill the woman behind the front desk. "They'll be here any minute. You're just wasting time."

Matt looked side to side, the look of panic spread across his face. A surge of confidence flowed freely within Stiles, there was a thread of hope after all and he wasn't going to let it go.

"You said you wanted our help." Scott reminded Matt. "Touch her and you won't get anything from us."

"Yeah." Stiles agreed "I say you put her in there, and then take care of her later." Stiles' head tilted towards the open locker.

Nikita's face distorted in anger as she processed Stiles' words. "You have to be kidding me, there is no way in hell I'm-

"I want you to do the honors." Matt said, pointing the gun at Stiles. His grin grew wide, for it was Stiles who was burying his own grave.

Stiles nodded his head "Gladly."

It all happened so quickly, they had to make haste. Her fingers grabbed at his white shirt and bunched up at the material, nails digging into his chest, like a cat avoiding a bath. Her heels dug into the ground, Nikita wasn't going to go inside the locker without a fight.

"Stiles, don't do this, I don't want to go in there." She begged.

Her round startled eyes filled with tears, once again Stiles felt like he was looking into the eyes of a scared helpless little girl. He was absolutely crushed, but he kept pushing, her rubber soles roughly slid across the tiled floor. Nikita's mouth hung open as tears streamed down her face, her body relaxed as soon as her brain accepted helplessness. Someone she once trusted was about to shove her into a locker. Her frail body was shaking inside the locker, like a meek little creature about to be taken down by a predator. Nikita couldn't help but to sob, the situation was so out of hand, it was only an hour ago she was safe inside her cozy warm house.

Nikita looked to him with wide green eyes "Stiles, I'm scared." She admitted in a whisper.

Stiles jumped as Matt slammed the locker door shut, closing the door between him and Nikita. Never giving Stiles the chance to reassure or calm Nikita. Matt placed a lock in Stiles' hands, urging him to seal her in the locker for good. Reluctantly Stiles put the lock into place, but he didn't close it all the way. Matt was fooled, he gave the locker a good kick with a manic laugh.

"Sit tight babe, I'll come back for you." Matt promised.

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead to drip off her chin, they tapped against her sneakers and the bottom of the locker in a rhythmic quick manner. She could feel the heat stream down her back and constrict around her body. She still had her forehead pressed against the door, thinking of all the reasons she hated Stiles. If she got out of here she would wrap her fingers around his skinny little neck and throttle him. Perhaps shove him in a locker and see how he liked it.

It was getting harder to breathe in here, the air around her was stale and sticky with humidity. She was trying so hard to calm herself, to remind herself that the danger -Matt- wasn't near her. Not being able to see him only fanned her imagination, wondering what he could possibly be up to. Speculation made her paranoid, now imagining the worst case scenario. There was no escape from this upright tomb.

Nikita jumped at the sound of a loud bang!

Never had she been near a fired gun before, but it was an unmistakable sound.

Nikita's eyes flew open as she heard multiple, rapid, gunshots. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat as the loud pops and cracks echoed in the distance. The wailing of a siren went off throughout the entire complex, something was terribly wrong. Her mind immediately went to the one person Matt hated more than anyone.

Stiles.

He could have been lying on the floor bleeding to death at this very moment, and she was locked away, unable to help. Nikita let out a sob, her fingers scratched at the door, a pathetic feeble attempt at escape.

"STILES!" She called his name, knowing no one would come for her.

She would have to see herself out.

Without really thinking, her fist drew back as far as it could go -not far in a cramped locker- then it connected to the inside of the locker door. Her fist only rattled the locker, so she drew back her fist and tried again, putting even more force this time. Each time it would skin the back of her knuckles deeper and deeper. Yet, Nikita kept going, over and over, harder and harder each and every time.

Her mind was racing, had he been shot? Was Stiles holding onto the last line of life? A mix of guilt, sadness, and fear racked her mind. He couldn't be dead, she needed him alive, she just...needed him. It was then she truly realized how much she needed Stiles, how much she wanted to be with him, how much she cared for him. More than she was ever willing to admit. Nikita let out a cry hitting the locker over and over again, gritting her teeth for the sting bit at her knuckles, the metal starting to dampen with her own blood.

Bang!

Her fist slammed into the locker. She was bearing down on her teeth.

Bang!

She could feel slick warmth seeping between the cracks of her fingers. No one was going to come and rescue her, she had to do this on her own, she had to pull herself out of this pit of despair.

Bang!

The acrid smell of coppery blood filled her senses and awoke something within. Nikita bit down on the inside of her cheek and pulled her fist as far as it could go.

 **BANG!**

The door flew off the hinges and sent waves of sparks as it skid across the floor. A cold rush of air greeted her body when she hit the tiled floor with an 'oomph'. Freedom never felt so damn good. Nikita rolled onto her back and looked at her bloody thrashed hands. A small smile of victory tugging at the corner of her lips, she had managed to escape all by herself.

* * *

-Derek's POV-

The night was growing stranger by the minute. It had started with Lydia Martin poisoning him with wolfsbane. He was certain she had resurrected his uncle somehow. And when he came to, the strongest urge to seek out Scott had taken over. And now here he was, paralytic free of the Kanima venom. Gerard and his men had infiltrated the precinct, nearly capturing them all in their crossfires. A short burst of bullets had torn through the walls, for a solid minute, and just like that the hunters had vanished; assuming they had finished the job. The air hung with the scent of blood and jasmine, Derek was so worried that his fighting had grown clumsy.

His claws thrashed in the air as he brought it down on the Kanima, razorblade nails dug into thick leathery scales. The Kanima whipped Derek with its robust tail, sending him crashing against the bars of the holding cell Melissa McCall was trapped in. She let out a terrified scream watching the two monsters duke it out. Scott barreled down the hall like a bull let out of its pen, without thinking he jumped on the Kanima's back in his fully transformed werewolf self. The Kanima dug its nails into Scott's shirt, just grazing his skin. The venomous monster picked up Scott like a rag doll, ready to throw him across the room.

Derek scampered to his feet in time to see Isaac enter with a ferocious growl. His Beta, rushed in and tackled down the Kanima. How his Beta had freed himself from his chains was beyond him. It must have been the urge to protect his Alpha, or pure adrenaline rushing through his veins from the full moon. The Kanima looked to see it was outnumbered by three enraged Werewolves and a half paralyzed Stiles slumped on the floor. The homicidal lizard fled by crawling across the ceiling, escaping through a vent.

Isaac was struggling to reel himself in, trying to contain the urges that threatened to tear from his skin. The wolf in him wanted to let free, to bask in the blood lust he so terribly craved. Derek hovered above his Beta, trying his best to keep him in check, talk him down in a voice of strict command. Isaac had to be reminded who his Alpha was.

Derek's hard glance cut across to the room to see Melissa McCall sobbing, free from her confines, and running off to the other room. It was all far too much for her to process. Scott let his mother go off without him, she had a lot to digest on her own. Stiles was finally able to move again, the paralytic agent leaving his body.

The stick of a teenager got to his wobbly feet and dusted his shoulders as if he were present in the fight the entire time. "Well that was close." He said casually.

Stiles' jaw dropped at the sight of Nikita storming into the room, fuming mad and frightened at once.

"WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED!?"

Nikita looked like a bat right of hell. She looked around the room to see Isaac awkwardly crouched to the floor, finally able to regain himself. Scott looking full of despair, and the Sheriff knocked out and cuffed to the radiator. Derek noticed how her glance lingered on Stiles, the two of them holding each other in warmth and gratitude for the other was okay. He could feel her relief and affection pouring over for Stiles, his matching her own. Derek said nothing.

"I-uh, you got out!" Stiles said in a cheery voice, as if he didn't lock Nikita into a locker twenty minutes ago.

"Matt got away." Derek cleared his throat and informed her. "There was a standoff with the cops, and now he's escaped by foot, the police are on it." He hated himself for spewing lies like that, but what was he supposed to tell her?

For a moment she only stared at him, mossy eyes studied every muscle in his face. She was reading him, but Derek's face stayed calm and still as ever.

"I want to go home, NOW!" Nikita leaving Derek without an option.

* * *

He wished there was something to take the edge off her nerves. Derek wasn't very good at these things, he hoped his presence brought some sort of calm to her. Nikita didn't utter a single word on the whole drive home. Every part of her was shaking, so much so that she decided she would pick up her mini cooper the next morning, it was impossible for her to drive. Derek's black camaro sped down the road and past the preserves. Her head remained bowed down, Nikita quietly observing her sloppily bandaged right hand.

They finally pulled up to her house. His hand rested on top of hers. What she thought was a tender touch was Derek extracting her of any pain she felt in her hands. She looked to him with frightened innocent eyes. A quiet thank you, for she thought he was trying to comfort her, unaware of his true deed.

Derek looked to see the lights in her house were out, Walter must have had another late shift. He was far from surprised with how busy Walter was, especially with the recent killings. But that meant Nikita had to spend yet another night alone in a large house, with Matt on the loose this time. Her bandaged hand went to squeeze the door handle, her movements frozen in hesitance.

"Niki, if you want...I could stay the night?"

He knew he shouldn't have offered. He had spent so much heartache and energy trying to sever himself from her, but even Derek wasn't this cruel. She was frightened and alone, he couldn't leave her on her own like this.

"I could take one of the guest beds or even the couch if you want me to?"

He could see the smallest spark of hope behind her eyes, wide with appreciation and even elation. Even her shoulders began to sag, all tension rolling off her body, knowing she was safe within his presence.

"You would do that?"

"Yeah, of course." He smiled, hoping it would cause her to smile back. Their relationship was so tarnished that he hoped there was still something there, even when he didn't deserve it. She smiled back.

Nikita opened the car door, stepping out. Derek took a moment to quickly text Scott, Isaac, and Stiles, checking in on them in hopes they found Matt. Derek got out of the car to join Nikita on the passenger side, the two of them standing there to take in the large home.

With her arms crossed she looked over to Derek. "Hey, so I went to visit Peter a few weeks ago, but he wasn't there…"

It was a peculiar moment for Nikita to bring up such a thing. She could have asked him about anything pertaining to the night. He knew her curious mind would ask him sooner rather than later, he just didn't expect them to come together for this to happen. She was testing him, he knew. Testing to see if his answer was convincing enough to swallow. Hoping in her heart he wouldn't lie to her. He wasn't prepared for such a question, he had to create a lie on the spot and hope it was passable.

"He was transported to Seattle. They're trying to find a match for a skin graft." Derek giving her crossed arms a soft nudge, trying to get her to relax a little.

Then her lips pulled thin, she was taking apart his lie to dissect it, finding it to be full of shit just like him, just like the rest of them. A surge of panic flowed through him but Derek refused to show it, he needed to remain unreadable.

Nikita took her gaze off of him and Derek felt like he could relax again, then she leaned off his car. "You know, I think i'm fine tonight. You don't need to stay." She said suddenly.

The panic was back. If there was even a grain of trust between them, it had now been swept away by his own doing. She wasn't even looking at him now, Derek unaware that Nikita was told Peter had been taken to Los Angeles by her own father. The two of them had never even thought to get their stories straight, having been avoiding each other.

She started to make her way to her home, Derek on her tail, desperate to balm this situation.

"Are you sure? It's really no hassle, I can stay-"

"It's really no problem." Nikita digging in the red hoodie's pocket, pulling out her keys. She sounded so reassuring but there was more to it than she lead on. A subtle layer of annoyance and hurt hidden beneath her steady voice "I'm fine on my own.

Nikita opened the door, with one last look lobbed at Derek she said. "In fact i'm great on my own." And closed the door in his face.

* * *

\- Nikita's pov-

Getting up the stairs was like taking on a mountain. She had no energy to spare, she had no tears to cry, and no fucks to give.

Nikita kicked off her shoes and let her bag drop to the ground, careless, not even putting it in the corner, or her desk where her clothes had started to pile up. Such was her life, a growing pile of bullshit stacking against her, the weight of it all causing her to buckle. At the moment she was feeling numb, much like her hand, her mind fuzzy and on autodrive. She couldn't process the events that had happened earlier, never in her life had she been so terrified, and helpless.

She thought to Walter and Derek.

One of the two was clearly lying to her, their stories crossing and half assed. The question of Peter's whereabouts still remained unanswered. Nikita didn't understand why anyone would have to lie about it, and now just thinking about all of it was starting to hurt her head.

Her eyes landed on her reflection in her vanity. Whoever was staring back at her looked sickly, yellow, gaunt, and tired. Nikita couldn't bare to even look at herself. So her eyes traveled to the end of the vanity to find her piggy bank. The white porcelain farm animal looked to her with its little snout, a smug smile on its face. Nikita went to pick it up, feeling how heavy it had grown with all the coins she had collected. The coins that were planted on her every time she had woken in the woods.

The first instance of the quarters happened the night Stiles had found her outside of town. Whoever had stuffed them in her hands had meant for her to use the payphone in order to be found. They had been placed in her palms many times, and there was one instance where they were placed directly over her eyes, a frightening discovery that still churned her stomach at the thought of it. Whoever was behind the quarters must have been the stranger in her dream, asking her night after night if she was scared.

She was terrified.

Nikita closed her eyes and let the fragile piggy bank slip from her fingers and shatter to pieces upon the wooden floor. She stood motionless in a pile of porcelain shards around her bare feet.

The quarters sang and rattled against the hard floor.

Quarters scattered in different directions, her gaze followed a particular coin that had rolled under her bed. Nikita walked to her bed, her footsteps creaking over the wooden floors. She then got on hands and knees to retrieve the quarter, only to find a dust coated paper beneath her bed. She pulled it out, and blew across it, sending a flurry of silver motes of dust into the air. Of course, it must have fallen out of her backpack at some point. Her thumb brushed against the thick cardstock, across the words 'come visit us today!'

It was one of the various Eichen House brochures that her school peers used to taunt her.

* * *

Please leave me love and reviews, if you've been an avid reader and have never left me a review I would really appreciate hearing your thoughts!

I can't wait for the next three chapters, it'll start coming together ;]


	36. The Last Game part 1

I told myself I would wait a week before updating...but I have no self control...so here you go!

Thank you to those of you who left me reviews last chapter, it means so much to me. Especially now more than ever now that we are embarking THE LAST THREE CHAPTERS OMG. I need all the encouragement I can get! Thank you thank you!

It's a short one, but I hope it's satisfying.

* * *

His palm rested firmly against the white ceramic tiled wall allowing the scalding hot water to cascade over his body. The hot water relaxed his muscles, but his mind was far from relaxed, it was a tipped chess board and all the pieces were falling off the table. Scott felt defeated time and time again. His mother had been avoiding him since last night, she couldn't bare to look at her own son. Stiles was still traumatized having a gun pressed to his head for half the night

Alison was avoiding him, having been influenced by her hunter family to stay put on the path she was destined for. The way she looked at Scott, like everything was his fault, like he was the one to break her heart, like he were her enemy. He wanted to be with her so badly, but she wouldn't let him near, part of him was starting to fear her. And yet again Nikita was put in harm's way. Every part of him was aching, mind, body, and soul. Scott realizing his secret, everyone's secret, would make no difference in protecting Nikita, it did absolutely nothing last night when Matt threatened to blow her brains against the ceiling.

He almost lost his future step sister.

That is why he gave Stiles the okay to tell Nikita everything. He could care less about what Derek wanted for Nikita, Derek was too busy taking care of his Betas to give Nikita any attention and see that the lies were causing more harm than good. The Supernatural world clawed and fought its way to grasp Nikita time and time again, fate wouldn't have it any other way. It would find Nikita, and it would consume Nikita….there was no fighting it.

It was now up to Stiles, if Stiles truly believed keeping secrets from her was the right thing to do in order to protect her, then Scott would stand by his best friend's decision. Stiles had stuck out his neck for Scott for so long, protecting him and his secret. He had given up so much for Scott's safety, including his own happiness. That's how it felt lately, like Scott was the reason why everyone lacked happiness in their lives. His secret, his actions, had taken a toll on every single person around him.

Telling Nikita the truth meant telling her why her best friend Cora and the Hales were burned alive, it meant telling her that she had been living a lie, and Peter, someone she once trusted tried to turn her against her own will. Stiles understood her in a way that other's didn't, they had an untouchable chemistry, even if she hated Stiles at the moment. There were strong feelings there between the two.

It was a lot of pressure, it was a lot of guilt to hold. Stiles was the only person deemed fit for the job.

The Beta stepped out of the shower and wrapped a crisp white towel around his waist. He opened his door letting plumes of white steam escape. Scott froze upon entering his bedroom. What he saw left him in complete spine numbing fear. The Kanima had his mother by the throat, dangling her from the ceiling. Gerard Argent sat comfortably in Scott's arm chair, waiting for him. The dim bedroom lights left black shadows across the soft planes of his face, darkening beneath his menacing beady eyes.

Scott was ready to fall to his knees right there, ready to beg for his mother's life. Lay his life on the line for her.

"As you can see, Scott, there have been some interesting... developments." The old man said with a smug victorious grin.

Scott could feel every inch of skin beginning to tingle, it would be so easy for him to wolf out and go straight for Gerard. The risk was much too high with his mother's life literally dangling before him. She was fighting for air, her face starting to pale from a lack of circulation. Gerard had finally seized the upper hand and gained control of the Kanima, his little pet for killings. It dawned on Scott for a split second that this meant Matt had been taken out. His mouth was going dry now, Matt was dead, Gerard had regained dominance, Allison was following in his footsteps.

Scott's eyes never left his mother's. Afraid she would be killed in front of him.

"Let her go, now." He commanded with a growl.

To this the Kanima hissed back with its black forked tongue flicking the air. The cold yellow slitted eyes remained on Scott, it was like there was no trace of Jackson in there. The lizard had taken over Jackson completely, was there ever a chance of even getting him back?

"I can't let her go." Gerard informed him. "But let her live? well...That's up to you."

"What do you want?" Scott asked calmly. His mother's face was turning blue now as she frantically kicked her legs back and forth in the air.

"I want what I've always wanted, I want Derek Hale, I want power. I want you to deliver him to me tonight."

Scott's claws elongated, his eyes flashed a molten gold. "This is about Kate, isn't it?"

Gerard got up and straightened his lapel before walking to Scott. His black boots clicking along the wood. Scott could smell it on him, the putrid smell of death and decay, hell he could even see it on his tired sickly face. This old man was withering away, but not soon enough.

"I didn't come here to bury my daughter." Gerard coming toe to toe with Scott. " I came here to avenge her."

* * *

-Derek's POV-

There were only so few items left unscathed by the fire. The last cherished items that served as a reminder that Derek was once loved, once had a family. Derek pulled out a cracked picture frame of his mother and father. His thumb brushed the dust off his father's face, Derek was a spitting image of his old man, with his sharp features and bright eyes. While Cora held the softness and beauty of his mother; Laura being the perfect delicate mix of the two. He missed them, all of them. Not a day passed where he didn't think of his parents, Cora, Laura, and sometimes the man Peter used to be before the fire. He missed the sounds of their laughs, the smell of the grill being used in the backyard, Laura blasting her loud angry music in her room.

Being in this house was forever haunting. The walls creaked and moaned, and when the wind blew they screamed. He swore it was the ghosts of his family. The floors still smelled of char, even the parts that were untouched by fire, the scent clung to every inch of his skin. That fateful day was still fresh in his mind, it would never fade.

Derek's eyes darted to the ground where a crater sized hole had torn through the wooden floor. Peter had escaped with the help of Lydia Martin, and now he was nowhere to be seen. The last time he had spoken to Peter was just before he had taken his life. That meant Peter was under the impression that Nikita was dead. As long as Peter believed that, then Nikita would be out of harm's way.

Either way he wasn't taking any chances.

Derek had fallen asleep outside of Nikita's window the other night, vowing to take watch every night until he killed Peter again, permanently this time.

The Alpha turned to see Erica and Boyd standing side by side, hand in hand. Both wore apologetic looks on their faces, Derek knew exactly what was coming, he just wished things could have been different.

"You've come to leave...Haven't you..." Derek simply stated over his shoulder before turning his attention back to his box that carried memories of his old life. It hurt to look at them, his pack, his family. He had made them, turned them, trained them, and from that he felt superconnected to them.

"Things are getting to dangerous for us now." Erica admitted, her voice saddened by the fact.

"We are only strong when we're together, as a pack." Derek reminded the two sternly. They should have known better by now.

" I want to do a few things before I sign myself up for a suicide mission...Like get my drivers license..."

Derek rolled his eyes at the hopeful smile in Erica's voice.

"I've never been outside of Beacon Hills." Boyd added. "I want to see what's out there. I want to join the lacrosse team, make new friends."

The Alpha closed his eyes and exhaled calmly, not allowing any emotions to seep from the cracks that he was riddled with. He refused to let his Betas to see him as weak.

"Fine, leave, who am I to hold you back from your unrealistic fantasies?"

"I also can't keep these lies with Nikita." Erica's voice soft, fearful of what Derek would say or think.

"What, are the two of you best friends now?" Even he cringed at the toxicity which he spewed. It didn't even sound like Derek.

"No, I just remember what it means to be a decent person. And if you cared about Nikita, even the slightest, you would be fine with this." Erica's tone coming to match his.

"I'm telling her about everything tonight, at the game. Goodbye Derek."

He didn't bother to turn around or to say goodbye to his Betas, he didn't bother stopping Erica from finding Nikita. Never had he felt so abandoned. It was all Derek ever wanted, a pack...A family. A sad and pathetic attempt at filling an endless hole in his heart, no one could ever truly replace his own family, but his Betas came so close. The only family he had left was his homicidal half dead uncle, Nikita and Walter Grace.

Derek let out an exhale.

There were moments where it hit him like a freight train, how truly alone he was. Isolation and solitude were his only companions for the rest of his life, and it would take forever getting used to that.

It was only a few short moments later when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising…

He wasn't as alone as he thought he was.

Derek grabbed a shard from a broken mirror and launched it at the person behind him with all his might. Only for them to catch it before it could penetrate their throat. Peter held onto the shard with a sharp grin on his face.

Derek wasn't surprised to see him. What surprised him was how frail Peter looked, he truly looked like he was back from the dead.

"Impressive throw, nephew. I was expecting a warmer welcome, but I suppose this will do."

Derek was fuming mad, his knuckles bunching up tight. It took every bit of restraint not to tear out Peter's throat again. "What the hell do you want!?"

Peter let out an incredulous bout of laughter like he were the answer to all of Derek's prayers.

"Well I'm here to help out my family, you are my blood after all."

His uncle approached him and rested his hand on Derek's shoulder, a sign of peace and comradery. There was no peace and love between them, that had vanished long ago. Derek flung Peter backwards, forcing him to collide with the stairs. The Alpha picked him up by the collar of his shirt and punched him square in the jaw over and over, having to work out some residual feelings of hate and betrayal. Peter took every blow, crying out for him to stop, blood sullying his face, replacing the burns and blisters he once bore.

Derek dropped Peter to the floor and watching him meekly curl into a ball, using his arms to protect his head. He looked so feeble from up here, a wriggling worm, lower than a worm.

" I just want to help!"

Once he realized Derek wasn't going to hurt him anymore Peter got to his feet and dusted off his shoulder like nothing had happened.

"Look that thing me being the Alpha and all got way out of hand, I was power crazy! I wasn't thinking clearly! And that whole Nikita situation was a little awkward, She's family to me! I forget how fragile human lives are." He said with a soft chuckle as if this were some casual conversation. "They just crack like eggs don't they?

Derek wanted nothing more than to rip out Peter's neck with his teeth, he emitted a low growl of impatience.

Peter took the hint and carefully pressed on. "I think you need me more than I need you."

"I don't need a lunatic such as yourself!" Derek snapped, his eyes glowing a blood red to remind Peter who the real Alpha was, to show his dominance, to show Peter that he was nothing to him.

"Whoah there! Must I remind you? You were the one who slashed my throat, but hey...We're all works in progress here." Peter's dark blue eyes gleamed with amusement until they lit up to an electric color, he was submitting to Derek, showing that he was a Beta.

"Look, Gerard is winning this game right now. He's toying with Scott, he's toying with you. And he will kill your betas one by one. And he's using Jackson as his prime weapon."

Derek crossed his arms, he could feel the heat of anger flushing his face. All of this was strikingly true and there was no way around it. "Tell me something I don't know."

A crooked grin formed on Peter's lips, the all knowing glint behind cold steel eyes were back. It was like Peter had never left in the first place.

"I know how to bring Jackson back."

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

It was quiet here.

The receptionist at the desk looked unfazed and bored with her life. Nikita could hear the loud clicks of her long purple acrylic nails tapping against the keyboard. Once in a while the two would make eye contact, then quickly look away. She wasn't in the mood for conversation, feeling far from cheery or social.

She wore a faded navy baseball cap real low, as if that would help keep her identity inconspicuous. Nikita was so anxious just being here in the waiting room, wishing she had someone for moral support. The bandages on her right hand felt loose now, she would have to change it when she got home. Her mind fled to the other night, thinking of Stiles, and how far she was from being over him. He had admitted his feelings for her last night...At gunpoint. Not really an ideal way to confess one's feelings, far from romantic, but it was something. Nikita knew it was wrong to pursue a relationship with Stiles, especially with how things were going. She needed time to focus on herself, better herself. Although Nikita wanted to let Stiles know that she cared for him back, tonight she would put herself out there, tell him how she really felt, and expect nothing in return. There were so many complicated feelings, and she needed an outlet.

She had to tell him before she left.

Still on the track of last night...never had she felt so helpless. It was like any shred of power or control had been taken from her. They had shoved her in a locker, left her alone, ensnared for Matt. She never wanted to feel that weak ever again.

Nikita looked up from her seat to see an older gentleman standing above her, one hand resting comfortably on a stun gun, the other holding a clipboard. He looked to her with murky grey eyes and sunken cheeks, a sheepish grin plastered to his face. There was a certain cockiness to him which Nikita found to be off putting.

"The name's Brunski." He said with an air of glee. " Welcome to the Eichen House, let's get this tea party started."

The older gentleman cocked his head to the side, signalling Nikita to follow him. He started walking before she could even get up on her feet, Nikita had to run to catch up with him, her sneakers squeaked sharply against the polished grey floors.

They passed a small group of orderlies in perfect crisp white uniforms, each one seemed to be counting pills out of prescription bottles, organizing them. One was leaning against the mustard yellow wall with a binder in hand, nodding as his eyes scanned over the list of enlisted patients.

Brunski handed her a medium sized white plastic box and cleared his throat. She wasn't exactly sure what to do with it, remaining quiet.

"Your purse, all jewelry and any cellular devices must be kept in here before we enter" He informed her with his dreadful unenthused monotone voice, clearly he had done this hundreds of times before.

It was easy putting her purse and cell phone into the box, but Nikita couldn't imagine being without her necklace. She had worn it every day since she was eight years old, only to take it off for showers when she remembered to. She wasn't about to take it off just yet, so it remained hidden underneath her shirt where no one could see.

Brunski was glowing like a lightning bug, the smile on his face making it look like he actually had cheekbones. "You're so lucky that _I_ , the headwarden, am here to give _you_ a tour!"

Nikita had to force a smile even though she hardly had the energy for it. Brunski seemed really proud of his profession. An ego fueld by power over those who were weaker than him. She pulled down the lid of her baseball hat, concealing her face as best she could in case she were to run into someone. Her footsteps now falling in line with his, as the two of them finally entered the main premises.

He lead her down a narrow hall and into a padded room. Nikita looked around, the white quilted walls stained yellow and torn. It looked like it was straight out of the set for _One Flew Out Of the Cuckoo's Nest_. Nikita stepped inside and already she could feel an icy hand of a chill caressing her back. It was undoubtedly an isolation room. Nikita was playing with the bottom of her hair, braiding a thin strand, now wanting to be in this room any longer.

Brunski could see the uncertainty behind her large doe eyes.

" Cool it Bambi." A clear distaste in his gruff voice,he was already annoyed with her. "This room hasn't been used in thirty years, they're turning it into a storage room."

Nikita nodded in understanding. She followed him up a flight of stairs and through a long dimly lit hallway where the rooms were laid out. Each room the size of a small dorm equipped with two twin sized beds and a barred window. The walls bare with faded peeling beige wall paper, like someone had scratched away at it. The stale smell of dirty laundry filled her senses, making her stomach twist and churn. One glance at the rooms and Nikita knew this was where she would spend her long and lonely nights, staring vacantly at the grey ceiling. A few of the beds had brown worn and faded leather straps on either side, Nikita swallowed thickly and couldn't help but cringe at the thought of being strapped down every night.

"You've informed me on your sleeping habits...This is where you'll be sleeping, lights out at Nine P.M, strapped in by ten." Brunski popped a toothpick between his lips. Just staring at the little piece of wood was irritating, a peeve she never knew she had. Nikita could imagine it getting caught in the back of his throat, the sound of his dry wheezes as he gasped for air.

Once again Brunski noticed her staring, put off by it. "Don't worry, I've been told the straps are mighty comfortable!" He let out a high pitched laugh, the toothpick balancing on his bottom lip. Nikita narrowed her eyes, hoping the toothpick would just lodge itself in his throat and shut him up already.

Her heated gaze got him to stop laughing, his smile fell. "Enough with the staring, Bambi, let's go!" Brunski snapped.

They walked through the long hallway and into the common room, where a group of patients were watching Back to the Future on a projected screen. Glassy round eyes stayed glued to the screen as she and Brunski passed by, it was as though they were invisible. They all seemed content, even in such a dreary depressing environment. Another group busy playing board games, they quietly snickered to themselves, taking turns with the dice.

They had finally made it to Brunski's cramped office. The office was dark with the drapes shut, piles of papers and junk food wrappers littered the desk.

" Alright Bambi. Since you're a minor, you will need a parent signature, even for voluntary check in. We will keep you in here for a week, under assessment. If our doctors feel you are unfit in any way then we have the right to keep you here longer. Got it?"

"Y-yeah." Nikita finally spoke dryly, what felt like the first words of the day.

"Alright." Brunski nodded. "Stay here, I'll go get the paperwork."

Nikita waited in his office patiently while she wrung at her fingers and shifted her feet. She was nervous, but there was no doubt in her mind that she belonged here...She had to check herself in before she talked herself out of it. Second thoughts and hesitations weren't allowed.

Her attention fled her when she around to see a brightly lit glass paneled trophy display case. It was the only bright object in the room, emitting beams of light across the dull carpeted floor. This would keep her distracted for a minute or two. She walked over to look at the rows of trophies and neatly hung medals. They were properly displayed by the years they were awarded, each one awarded for Beacon Hills Lacrosse. Nikita couldn't help but to smile, wondering if Coach Finnstock possibly knew Brunski. Beacon Hills was such a small little town, it seemed as though everyone knew each other, and their secrets.

That's when Nikita caught a reflection in the glass, at first she had thought it had been her own, so she froze in place. But the silent figure in the reflection was moving towards her ever slowly.

Nikita quietly turned around.

She let out a relieved sigh.

It was only a girl, perhaps the same age as her. She must have been lost or passing by. She was a willowy thin girl, swimming in her grey sweater and sweatpants. Her piercing green eyes were wide, so wide that the whites shown around it. Her tight brown curls were brushed out and cut short, some pieces shorter than others, like she had pulled them out. Nikita noticed how pale her skin was, almost translucent with the display case light, she must have not gotten out often.

The girl took a quick step towards Nikita, giving a birdlike tilt of her head, her ghostly eyes drilling right through her. True raw horror existed in those eyes, Nikita backing away hurriedly.

"A-are you lost?" Nikita asked softly, so as not to startle the girl, or risk setting her off in any way.

"You're not supposed to be here." The girl warned with a violent twitch of her entire body, like she had no control of her functions.

Nikita cleared her throat, trying to sound steady, but her voice came off as weak. "I'm..I'm sorry?"

"You...Are NOT supposed to be here!" The girl's voice slightly increasing as she took another step towards Nikita. Her eyes were still wide like they had seen terrible unimaginable things. She was looking at Nikita like she was an axe murderer. Nikita took a step back, trying to distance herself from the girl.

"I screamed that night, I screamed for you." Her voice soft and shaky, yet somehow laced with manic a sense of pride.

Nikita was officially frightened as she backed up as much as she could, trapped between the girl and the wall. There was no escape. "What are you talking ab-"

 **I SCREAMED FOR YOU I HEARD YOUR BODY BREAK! I HEARD IT BREAK!"** The girl screamed! It was as though a thousand tiny needs penetrated her eardrums, Nikita crouched down into the corner of the room. She had heard the scream before, it was so similar to Lydia's, almost crippling.

"No!" Nikita shook her head, confused by what she was hearing, her back sliding down the glass case for her knees could no longer support her.

She took a step closer to Nikita, invading her personal space. "I SCREAMED FOR YOU! I HEARD YOUR BODY BREAK! **"** She screamed once more, in a taunting sing song voice.

"NO!" Nikita screamed back, cowered against the wall and teeth gritted in pain.

The girl came closer to her until they were face to face, just inches apart! " I HEARD YOUR BODY BREAK!"

" **SHUT UP! SHUT UP!** " Nikita screamed, covering her ears with her hands, shaking her head side to side. She had to stop the awful noise, she had to stop the confusing words coming out of her mouth! How badly she wanted to break the girls jaw, rip her tongue out. A strong violent urge flickered in her, she was fighting back for if she got her hands on her...

"I HEARD YOUR-"

The Patient was interrupted when two orderlies, including Brunski, violently wrangled her away. She kicked and cried out, being ripped away from Nikita. She was a rabid animal, blinded by her madness. The strange girl tried to claw her way past the door frame as the three men pulled her away. They pried her fingers with force and managed to get her out the door. Nikita scampered to her feet and ran to the door to see they were dragging her down the hall, she was still frantic and fighting them with tooth and nail.

"I SAW YOU!" She screamed again, her shrill voice bouncing down the halls.

Nikita was in sheer panic, her hand coming to cover her wide open mouth. The way the girl looked at her was like she truly had seen Nikita before. Brunski had her on the floor, his knee digging painfully into the girl's back while the other two men held her down. Pinning her to the floor. He pulled out a needle and injected it right into her neck, slowing her down. She looked to Nikita with scared watery eyes, a helpless animal. Nikita didn't know what to think or what to next jumble of words that left her mouth caused Nikita to still with fear.

"...You died." The patient muttered, slowly drifting into a valium induced defeated state.

"You died."

* * *

Please leave me love and encouragement! I gotta know if people are willing to read the next story! Let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	37. The last game part 2

Oh my goodness guys, we are nearing the end of this story. There is only ONE MORE CHAPTER AFTER THIS ONE.

Thank you so much to those of you who have left me reviews. As I am towards the end I grow paranoid, hoping my readers and reviewers will follow me into the next story. Thank you to those of you who have shared this story with your friends, those of you who were patient enough to go on this journey with me through this steep build up. Thank you to those of you who take the time out of your day to tell me you enjoy this story, you guys are the best.

There is some brief non detailed sexual content in the last pov, if it makes you uncomfortable please skip to the last few paragraphs of the story! Hope you enjoy this!

* * *

The bags were packed.

Nikita sat at her desk, on her right hand she had the unsigned Eichen House papers that would admit her in. On the left was a school form informing parents that their children would be watching an R rated movie in class, Walter had signed off on it previously. Nikita looked to his signature, memorizing the curves, weights, sharp descenders of each and every letter. She picked up a pen, and did her best to replicate his signature on the Eichen House papers, forging his signature perfectly. She leaned back into her seat, proud of her work. Realization was sinking in, she was actually about to do this.

It felt like such a big step. A terrifying step.

She quickly shoved her packed bags under her bed, it wasn't time.

Not yet.

* * *

Nikita pulled down her black beanie, making sure that it covered her ears. It was especially cold tonight. It was the last lacrosse game of the season. Her and her father were standing in line to grab kettle corn. Even though Walter had to leave twenty minutes into the game, he wanted to be here to support Scott and spend time with Nikita.

It was weird being here, all the people she was supposed to trust were all present at the game. Including her father. She hadn't made up her mind about him yet, was he a liar like the rest of them?

Over her face was this thin plastic mask with a permanent etched in smile. When really she felt lost, like she wasn't standing in the dark dewy grass with half her school and her father. It was difficult attempting to emote these days when it felt like it would drain her of all her energy. She couldn't feel much, she couldn't even feel for Stiles, but her brain was screaming at her to talk to him at the end of the game. Which is why she agreed to go in the first place.

Her mind felt like mush, like static playing on repeat over the images of what had happened earlier in the day. The girl at Eichen House, her 'claims'. Nikita shuddered just thinking about it, brushing it off, for now was not the time. It was never the time.

" -And that's how they delivered four healthy girl quadruplets in the hospital today!" Walter finishing his story to which Nikita wasn't even listening to, lost in the shallows of her mind.

He put an arm around her shoulder to pull her in a side hug. "And that made me think of the day you were brought into this world. I knew I would love you forever, even though you looked like a little yellow raisin and you were supposed to be a boy, hence your name."

Nikita turned to suddenly look at him. "Wait what!?"

Walter kissed the top of her head. "I'm just kidding, making sure you're actually listening. Although you did have some mild jaundice as a baby."

She would have rolled her eyes at him, but at the instant Gerard Argent showed up, crossing the field to stand next to the bleachers. Her and the demonic geriatric prune held a cold gaze together. Circling each other, knowing the other person knew something the other didn't. In her case, her remembering the night of Winter Formal. Nikita couldn't even bare to look at him, and quickly looked away. Except this time Walter had caught the quiet and hostile interaction.

"What was that?" Walter inquired, pushing his thick rimmed glasses up with his index, his 'night glasses.'

Nikita didn't bother answering, wanting to divert his attention, so she looked around, wishing this line for kettle corn would die already.

That's when her father walked in front of her, grabbing both of her shoulders so that she was forced to look at him. It was peculiar staring into eyes that were told to be a carbon copy of hers, dark evergreens on a dismal night. They were concerned for her, they were always concerned for her. And while she wore her mask so well, there was only so much she could hold back. Her levy of emotions were riddled with cracks.

"Has Gerard Argent done something to you? Talked to you? Done anything to make you feel uncomfortable?" Her father inquiring. When did Walter's senses sharpen?

Why did this feel so humiliating? Why did he make her sound like an actual victim? She didn't want to answer him, and being here was hard enough already. Gerard had been harassing her for some time now, made it so she had another reason to dread school.

Walter's eyes searched her face for some sort of tell across her iron facade. "Alright." Was all he said.

He went marching off, right past her, and towards Gerard Argent. She shouted his name, hoping and swearing he wouldn't do anything that would cause her deep humiliation or him in handcuffs. The people around the three of them had frozen, Walter's angry strut was enough to get them to stop and watch, waiting to see what would happen next. He was an angry bull seeing red, and Gerard was a straw stuffed scarecrow about to be pulverized. Nikita and the surrounding audience let out a loud gasp when Walter's face connected to Gerard's face. Argent was looking the other way when it happened, the punch catching him by surprise and knocking him to the ground. Nikita ran over, unsure of what to do. Walter was on top of Gerard now, pulling the old man to his feet by the lapel of his coat.

"You stupid son of a bitch! I told you to stay away from my daughter. DID I NOT TELL YOU?"

Both of Nikita's hands came to her mouth, she had never seen her father like this before, so overprotective. Nikita wasn't sure if she found it disturbing or not, the limits her father was pushed to, acting such a way for a calm gentle dignified doctor.

Walter still had Gerard by his jacket, the old man looked like he had been hit by a bus, dazed with wide eyes. Not a sentence left mouth, not even a word could manage to escape between the stammering sounds he was making. His jowls shaking.

Security was quick to pry Walter away from Gerard. Her father's fingers outstretched, wanting to scratch off Gerard's paper thin skin. Nikita followed her father as two security guards escorted him off the premises.

"You're lucky I don't press charges, Grace!" Gerard shouting after them, regaining his confidence even though his ego was now shattered. Suddenly Nikita didn't find him so intimidating anymore.

Walter pulled his arms away from the two large school security guards, giving them both venom filled pointed glares. "I can walk to my own car, thank you."

The two of them, father and daughter, wore bright red faces. Nikita's flushed with embarrassment while Walter's was filled with pure rage.

"Did you have to do that!? Do you know how humiliating that was?" Nikita right on his tail, the dewey grass now becoming hard asphalt as they entered the parking lot.

"Never let people tread on you, Nikita." Walter fishing his car keys out, speaking through gritted teeth. "I had to leave soon anyways, i'll just get to work early."

He seated himself in the car, looking to Nikita before closing the door. "Be safe tonight, ok? I'm keeping my phone on me if you need anything. Also there's a frozen lasagna in the freezer if you decide you're hungry."

Nikita let out a puff of air which fogged into the frigid air, her hands still tucked into her coat pocket, shaking with anger and adrenaline. "Ok. Thanks." She said lamely. Not sure how she was supposed to go back to the game after what had happened.

She turned onto her heels to return back to the game. Walter watched as Nikita was out of his view. Still seated in his car, Walter fished around in his coat pocket. From there he pulled out a silver tin, holding it steady in his surgeon's hand. With his thumb he popped the lid off, admiring the white pills inside. The corner of his lips pulled into a relieved smile, his anger submerging beneath a pool of calm. He put the lid back on, and threw the tin into the backseat of his car.

"Have fun rotting, Gerard." Walter started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

* * *

-Scott's POV-

"Open your eyes, Scott." A cold and familiar voice called to him. "I know you can hear me."

It was Gerard.

Scott was here at the game, seated at the bleachers, absolutely petrified. He had run out of ideas on how to outsmart the Argent patriarch. Coach Finnstock banned Scott from playing the last game of the season due to his less than spectacular grades. So Scott sat on the lacrosse bench with his eyes closed, next to Stiles. He had to keep every bit of him as calm as he possibly could, so that he could hone in and control all of his senses, more importantly he had to figure out how to get on the field and make sure Jackson didn't hurt anybody. Scott could hear the sound of metal cleats breaking the surface of the field, the whoosh sound the ball made whenever it was tossed into the air. The rapid heartbeat belonging to Jackson as he zipped down the field. Many different scents intermingled sharply in the air. The excitement of the crowd, the smell of fear wafting off of Stiles. He had every right to be afraid, Jackson was in the game and Gerard had the upper hand, he was the shoe...And Scott was just a mere bug about to be squashed.

"I said open your eyes or else your mother gets it!" Gerard's harsh voice cut through Scott's concentration, verbally prying his eyes open.

Scott turned around to see his mother at the top of the bleachers next to Sheriff Stilinski, but Gerard was nowhere to be seen. His mother was here, he didn't expect her to show up, put herself in immediate danger for him. Scott's heart ached for her, she must have been so terrified.

"Or maybe it'll be your best friend." Gerard's voice taunting the Beta. Scott immediately looked to Stiles who shot him a quizzical stare. Stiles could read his best friend like a book, no words were needed to tell that Gerard was here, and he was messing with Scott's mind.

"Don't listen to him, he's just trying to intimidate you." Stiles trying hard to reassure Scott, but there was no sense in trying.

He couldn't shut out Gerard, his eyes darting around the field, across the bleachers, searching for him. The elder Argent's voice grew louder, angrier, full of force. "Let's make Stiles an orphan, shall we?"

Stiles' lips were moving as he spoke words to try and calm Scott down, but Scott couldn't hear any of it. Not with the blood pounding in his ears. His heart rate was starting to pick up, he could feel heat behind his eyes, they wanted to set Gerard aflame. His fingers had clenched into fists, his claws threatening to elongate any moment. Scott was at risk of exposing himself in front of everyone right here, finding it harder to control himself. Control was a lucid concept, especially when the people he cared for were being threatened.

"It seems that I have forgotten my manners!" Gerard taunted from where he hid. "let me be the first to congratulate you on your new step sister..."

Scott's head whipped to the side to look at the bleachers once more. There she was sitting amongst the crowd in an emerald green coat and a black beanie on her head. She was seated next to Lydia, both of their eyes focused on the game. Stiles' eyes followed Scott's gaze, a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips when his eyes landed on her. But as realization hit him like a brick square in the face he paled over. The sound of Stiles' frightened beating heart seemed to drag Scott away from his blind rage. He looked to Stiles with concern.

"He's not going to do anything to her, he's bluffing." Scott said. More like he hoped, they had assumed the same from Peter Hale, and he acted opposite of his suspected intentions. Scott didn't dare tell Stiles about his father being threatened.

"She shouldn't be here." Stiles licked his bottom lip and turned around to watch the game, his fingers twitching around his lacrosse stick.

Stiles buried his head in his hands before letting out an exasperated sigh; they were already showing defeat. It was hard not to. Neither he nor Stiles had the confidence to carry on. "It's going to be bad...Isn't it? Oh god."

Scott nodded and swallowed past the dry patch building in the back of his throat.

Once more Stiles turned around to look at Nikita "I need to tell her, I need to tell her everything t-"

"BILINSKI!" Coach Finnstock shouted.

Stiles' mouth dropped open as he squinted his right eye, completely befuddled.

"I need Bilinski on the field NOW!"

Stiles jumped out of his seat and nearly fell over the bench, knocking over rows and rows of lacrosse sticks in the process. His brown eyes lit up with excitement and confusion, he looked to Scott for an answer.

"I think they need you on the field, buddy!" Scott giving his friend an encouraging smile.

Stiles wasted no time running to join his team mates, slipping across the grass in the process. Scott actually let out a chuckle, forgetting for a moment the dire situation he was in. He beamed with pride for Stiles, for his friend had wanted this for so long.

"Keep laughing Scott." Gerard's voice coming in again. Scott could feel his voice this time, like it were clawing at the back of his neck. He turned to look over his shoulder. Gerard was there, to the side of the concession stand, amongst a sea of people. The coward was holding a pack of ice to his right cheek. Scott took too much pleasure in seeing the old man in pain to stop and ask himself what happened to Gerard in the first place.

"You won't be laughing when the blood of those you love cover these fields."

* * *

\- Stiles pov-

Adrenaline and excitement coursed through his veins soon after he made a second goal. A SECOND GOAL. And no it wasn't in his own team's goal net. Stiles actually scored for his own team. He finally had a chance to prove he could play lacrosse. Everyone here was a witness to that. The crowd was wild with excitement, he could hear his father cheering him on from the top of the bleachers, his father being the loudest one throughout the crowd. The sound of his ecstatic father made him beam with pride, he was tripping on pure happiness. He was hoping and praying that Nikita was screaming and cheering for him as well. He wanted to show off for her, so Stiles' feet pivoted on the slick grass as he bobbed and weaved past opposing players. With swift speed he zig zagged across the field, the players were starting to look like blurs of color to him. Stiles was in the zone, an impenetrable focus on the game. Loving the confidence that flowed so freely within him.

By chance he looked up to see her there, standing in the bleachers. But she wasn't standing to cheer him on, she was standing up to leave. Nikita was clearly upset at something, from the looks of it so was Lydia Martin. Except the redhead remained seated, watching Nikita go without attempting to stop her.

Stiles wanted to talk to Nikita at the end of the game. She was leaving and he never got to tell her the truth about werewolves and the supernatural. He never got to tell her the truth and admit that the whole time he'd done it to protect her, because he loved her.

She couldn't leave when they were so close!

Stiles came to a halt. "NIKI!" He shouted her name only for it to get drowned out by the roaring crowd. She was making her way down the bleachers.

An opposing player, twice the size of Stiles, knocked right into him. Stiles hit the ground with an audible 'oomph!'

His head rolled to the side while he cringed in pain, he was seeing tiny little red dots dancing behind his eyes. A blurry Nikita was starting to part farther from him, Stiles couldn't waste another second. He wanted to reach out to her, grab her hand and tell her everything he had kept from her. Stiles had absolutely no fear in telling her the truth, he just wanted to get everything off his chest. He didn't expect Nikita to come running back to him after telling her everything, in fact he expected the opposite. She would hate him so much for this. But at least he would never have to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders and lie to her face. Just then a curious little white ball rolled right beside his head, Stiles' eyebrows knitted together.

"Oh...shit." Stiles muttered.

"Get the ball!" He heard Coach Finnstock shriek "Get the ball!" Groups of people shouted.

Stiles quickly scurried to his feet and with one swift scoop he picked up the ball. Niki was walking alongside the field now, the wind blowing through her hair with each long hurried stride. Too many times Stiles had watched her walk away, leaving him in shambles. No...He wasn't going to let her leave, not yet. Clumps of grass and loose dirt flew behind Stiles as he hit the ground running, running along the field right next to Nikita. Little did Stiles know he was actually running towards the direction of the goal.

"Niki! W-Wait!" He shouted, he knew she could hear him, but she was choosing to ignore him.

Her head was bowed down, eyes transfixed on the grass as she walked towards the parking lot. She was only nine feet away from him, but Stiles couldn't cross the chalk drawn line, otherwise he would forfeit the ball.

"I have to tell you something! Nik!" He pleaded one last time before he came to a stop. She kept walking, never turning around to look at him. "Please! Wait!"

"Throw it!"

Stiles looked to see his father jumping up and down in the bleachers "Stiles! Throw it!"

In following Nikita he had lead himself to the side of he goal.

The timer was ticking down, with only seconds left to spare. He looked to see he was only a couple feet from the goal, he was so busy chasing Nikita he didn't even noticed he outran most of the opponents. If he made this goal he would break the tie, Beacon Hills would win the CIF championship. With his eyes squeezed shut Stiles threw the ball towards the goal as hard as he could. A roar of cheers erupted into the night sky, Stiles had made the winning goal. While the crowd was cheering, Stiles could only hear dead silence, his heart beating in his ear drum; watching Nikita walk away. He didn't hear the people screaming and chanting his name, congratulating him. Nor did he feel the pats on his back, his shoulders being shaken by his elated team mates. No, once again Stiles Stilinski watched his dream girl walk away, like she did the night of Winter Formal.

But this time she stopped.

Just beneath the lamp lights. She was off in the parking lot, but Stiles could see her clearly from the field. His breath hitched to the back of his throat when she turned to look at him. Her silken brown hair blew back with the soft breeze, her pouty red lips pulled to form a small smile. Even from the distance he was at, Stiles could see her smile. Her smile was warm honey coating his soul. The gesture wasn't much, but it made his happy heart swell with pride. He shot her a smile back.

Just then a sea of hands lifted Stiles from the ground, his team mates were holding him up in celebration. Stiles couldn't help but to chuckle, his whole body shaking with laughter. He had won the game for his team, and Nikita actually smiled at him. For a moment he really did feel like he was on top of the world. Stiles threw his head back and looked to the night sky, he wanted to remember this moment and cherish it forever.

Then, the lights cut out.

* * *

-Nikita's POV-

This was so far the most bizarre night of her life, and she had seen an eternities worth of oddities.

She was here for Lydia, her best friend felt that the games were the last slice of normalcy in their messed up chaotic lives. That by showing up they were showing people that they were like everybody else. Lydia more than anything strived to fit in, Nikita noticed the whispers and rumors about them, the sad pitiful way people looked at them. Lydia turned a blind eye to all of it, she was stuck in her own dream world where she was still queen bee. Nikita knew better.

Without noticing, Nikita was playing with her necklace again, sawing the small silver heart along its chain. Lydia was the one who noticed Nikita's tense ways, even though she was basically a cold robot.

"I think it was important for me to be here tonight." Lydia confessed, her lips pressing a perfect red mark on to her coffee cup.

That got Nikita's attention. Lydia had absolutely nothing tying her to the game. She didn't need to be here, she wasn't with Jackson 'Shit-more' any longer.

"Because it's important for us to preserve our reputation." Lydia said simply, vacantly.

"Our reputation?" Nikita actually let out a laugh, unconvinced with Lydia's burn and crash mission of preserving her name. "Our reputation is shit."

"What does that mean!?" It was news to Lydia.

Nikita buried her face in her hands, covering her chuckle, incredulous as to how deluded Lydia had become. "Everyone thinks we're freaks! Why do you think people have left us? Why do you think people are keeping secrets from us? Jesus, Lydia, get your head out of your ass."

"Maybe if you didn't act so miserable and sad all the time we would still have friends!" Lydia shot back.

"I'm not the one screaming bloody murder in the middle of class!" Nikita pointing out. "And while we're on the topic of people keeping secrets from us, what the hell was up with that punch at your party?"

Lydia suddenly looked away, her eyes back on the field, looking for Jackson. "I don't know what you're insinuating, Nikita, and I don't like it."

Nikita could feel paranoia creeping up on her, she was always paranoid these days. Questioning her father, questioning those who called themselves her friends, her family. No one could be trusted, not even Lydia, who had already betrayed her trust once before. Why wouldn't Lydia betray her again?

"You know what i'm talking about." Nikita's voice growing impatient, Lydia trying to play stupid wasn't going to work with her. "Did you, or did you not drug everyone, including me, at your party?"

"You have no clue what you're talking about, Nikita!" Lydia was refusing to even look at her, the lack of eye contact had Nikita beyond peeved. She at least deserved that much.

"You're just like the rest of them!" Nikita snapped. Being here was tough enough, she wanted to go home, grab her bags, and drive straight to Eichen House.

One by one she descended down the steps, leaving Lydia completely crushed.

She walked alongside the field, towards the parking lot. It was when she heard Stiles' voice she picked up the pace. She wanted to tell Stiles everything, she did, but if she looked to him as he ran beside her, calling out her name with a sad desperation, she would break down in tears in front of half the town.

Nikita made it past the goal and could see her mini cooper waiting for her in the parking lot. And escape, right there. Her feat treaded hurriedly across the asphalt, but before she could go any further she came to a stop. An internal battle racked at her brain, for she had promised herself she would at least talk to Stiles. Maybe it was best to talk to him after her stay at Eichen House. Nikita turned to see Stiles had made the winning goal, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, at least things were going well for one of them, when everything else seemed to be going to shit. He looked to her and flashed a smile back, but not before being picked up by his team. Nikita covered her mouth to hide her even wider smile. He looked terrified being that high up, a frightened cat, until he finally relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy his victory.

"Congrats Stilinski." Nikita said to herself, rocking back and forth for it was cold out, and it was time for her to head home.

Just then the lights went out. Nikita let out a gasp as shrill screams filled the night. It must have been a power outage that startled the crowd, nothing more. Paranoia was still clung to her back, she knew something was wrong right then.

Nikita heard him crying out her name!

"Stiles." She whispered. For a moment she stood, paralyzed by fear. A chill of terror rolled down her back.

She had to get to him.

Nikita hit the slick grass running, the wind blew past her as she picked up speed. The cold air whipped at her face, bringing all her senses to life. A resurgence of energy, the last bit in the barrel coursing through her now. She hadn't run this fast since...since that fateful night.

Her combat boots dug into the soft earth as she ran towards Stiles. Towards where she had seen him last, before the lights went out, celebrating with his team. That's when all chaos broke loose. Howls and wails were heard as Nikita pushed past frantic bodies. She used her elbows to clear the way through the thick frenzied crowd to get to him. Nikita let out a yelp as the lights were turned back on, the harsh white lights skewed her vision, but she kept blindly pushing through the crowd.

Nikita rubbed at her eyes to see a small crowd forming, someone was on the ground.

"No!" She choked out as she literally yanked people back by their collars, upsetting people nearby her.

But she didn't care, she had to make sure Stiles was okay. Her eyes widened at the sight of Jackson limply strewn across the floor, immediately her hand covered her gaping mouth. Melissa was knelt next to him, checking his vitals. Lydia on the other hand was sobbing uncontrollably as she stood above her ex-boyfriend. Jackson was in terrible shape, but he was being tended to by a nurse. Nikita's eyes squinted and scanned across the field, there was no sign of Stiles. He would have rushed by Nikita's side by now.

"Stiles!" She called his name.

Sherriff Stilinski heard her, his head whipped side to side looking for his son.

"Where is my son?" He asked a frightened Nikita.

"I don't, I don-" Was all she could say as she yanked off her beanie so her fingers raked through her hair and gripped at the roots.

Her mouth hung open with no answer. He was here only a moment ago.

Sherriff Stilinski frantically looked around him one more time "Where is my son!?" He shouted out.

* * *

\- Alex's POV-

Indecisiveness would be his downfall.

One of his many flaws upon his ego and bitterness.

He used to be so self-assured as a teenager. Then the big life decisions started, every decision leading him to a different path that would either enrich or ruin his life. A town elected "child prodigy" could only do right for so long before the bad choices began to take over. He never liked making decisions, not one to enjoy the pressures of being a twenty-something year old, a 'young adult'. Even now, when he was at the bottom of the well trying to climb out in hopes of restoring his life, Alex feared responsibilities.

The quarter danced across the sticky bar surface, spinning in rapid circles.

Alex told himself that by the time it stopped spinning, he would make up his mind. That was a lie he would tell himself constantly for years now. It's how it always went, he would tell himself he would make a concrete decision when the quarter stopped its dance. Except that he would keep flicking at it, spinning it faster so that the momentum would never die. The dance would be everlasting and his decision would never be made. He would never be faced with the pressures of making a choice.

"Here's the whiskey you ordered."

The cup came down on the quarter with enough force to slosh the alcohol over the rim. Outside forces disrupting the quarter didn't count, a penalty, his decision would be made another day.

Alex looked up, disappointed to see his favorite leggy bartender wasn't here. In her place was some hipster Brooklynite Waldo looking fuck. The bartender was in a red and white striped sweater, his thick black rimmed glasses got on Alex's nerves, but it was the black Dhali-esque twisty mustache of his that really escalated Alex's annoyance.

'Where is Waldo' was now giving Alex a sharp look, who was openly staring at him, trying to burn the mustache off with his heated glare.

Dear god, it was so ugly.

"Why are you always here by yourself?" The Bartender inquired, thinking he could open Alex up to conversation. An amature mistake.

"How do you convince girls to sit on your face?" Alex's curious glance never leaving the greasy twisty mustache on his bartender's face.

The bartender was absolutely mortified, having stopped drying a beer mug with a rag. A woman next to Alex let out a laugh. Forcing the offended member to go hide out in the back, avoiding the two of them.

Alex turned to look at the woman sitting on the stool beside him. All the stools were empty, she could have sat anywhere, but chose to sit right beside him.

She was older, gorgeous, just his type exactly. Her high cheek bones caused the shape of her dark velvety eyes to look like two crescents. Upon those cheeks was a smattering of delicate freckles. She was professionally dressed with a deep cobalt suit and pants, and a high collared white blouse. Whisps of raven glossed hair framed her face, the rest of her hair tied neatly in a tight bun. She had a whole 'fuck me in the autobiography section of the library' look going for her. Alex recognized her right away, he had seen her face all over the media.

A woman such as her enticed him deeply. He knew what she was, one of those dominant types who got off on power and control. Hence her job, of course. She could sniff out weakness within moments, pick men from boys.

Alex smiled.

Power and control were two of his favorite things.

"Someone had to tell him." Hirst said, taking a sip of her gin and tonic and throwing Alex a wink.

"I take pleasure in being a considerable sort of man. A rarity amongst sheep." Alex's eyes drinking her in while his own lips tasted the honey whisky.

"How noble of you." Her body starting to lean towards his, his natural magnetism drawing her in. This was far too easy. She was starting to pick up on his attraction towards her.

"I try." Alex's voice low, causing her to lean in even more.

Her hand shot out for him to shake it, Alex took it gingerly, noticing how she had to assert a strong grip over him. "I'm Detective Hirst."

Before he could say anything, she interrupted. "And you're Alex Vincent Jones. You have a reputation around town you know."

"Uhoh." Alex mused, his dimples appearing with his devilish smile.

"Uhoh is right." She leaned in even closer to Alex so that her lips were just brushing against the shell of his ear. Her hot breath which smelled of alcohol beating against his skin, stirring the insatiable sexual fiend in him.

"I am a detective after all." Hirst whispered.

" Doesn't seem that hard of a job really." Alex's dimples still on his face. Him insulting her profession would only make her want to work hard to prove him wrong. "I could do what you do right here."

"Is that so? You think you can assess me?" Hirst's dark eyes narrowing on him, unsure if she was peeved or turned on by his arrogant demeanor. "You hardly graduated High School." Her brows cocking up as a sign of a challenge.

" It doesn't take a Detective to see how you're wriggling in your seat. You're wondering if I can fuck you until you're raw, aren't you?"

Hirst spat out her drink back into her cup, shocked and appalled by Alex, and his possible ability to read her mind. She looked to him to see if he were joking, his dimples however had vanished. He was serious. Those bright Arctic eyes of his looking her up and down. Just being held in his enchanting gaze was like being wrapped tight in silk to the point of constriction. She found it intimidating looking into his wintermist eyes, finding herself looking off to the side instead.

Where do you want to go? Behind the alley so I can have you against the wall?"

His dagger sharp smile came back when he heard Hirst swallow thickly.

"In your car?" Alex carried on. He could see a pink flush working its way across her cheeks.

Alex's finger traced her collarbone ever so gently, a feather light touch that brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin. His hand then went to grasp around her throat, the size of his hand dwarfing her slender neck. Her mouth hung open, unsure what to say or how to react. Alex was only giving her a taste of what's to come, should she choose it. He didn't seem to care if people saw them, the obvious sexual attraction flowing over so thickly.

Alex's confidence unmatched by no other.

"Or I could fuck you right here, I don't mind an audience."

His dark brows lifted, this time it was him lobbying a clear challenge on her end of the court.

"Well?"

* * *

Her moan was caught in her mouth, teeth clenched onto her bunched up blouse to hold back her screams, not caring if she got her lipstick all over it. She had driven them back to the police precinct, literally throwing her cash at the bartender and dragging Alex out by his belt loop. The few officers that were in today exchanged glances as she hastily lead him into her private office and slammed the door shut. Before Alex could even say a word she was already on her knees, unbuttoning his pants and taking his member into her hungry mouth. And now Alex had her seated on top her work desk, her papers and folders carelessly shoved onto the floor. He pounded fiercely into her, his heavy rhythm had Hirst literally shaking. His cock felt so good inside of her, enveloped in her heat.

Alex used his hands to pry her thighs open, she was finding it hard not to collapse inwards, using her knees to squeeze him. Hirst let out a long 'fuuuuuuckk' which was muffled into her blouse. He gently bit down on her collar bone, where the arousing taste of the salt on her skin and oils of her perfume intermingled perfectly on the tip of his tongue. His soft lips grazed to her shoulder across her beating pulse, licking, sucking and nibbling on the crook of her neck. Teeth grazing across the delicate flesh. Her breathing quick and ragged, small supple breasts bouncing with the motion.

Her hand came up to stroke the side of his face, the back of her hand caressing across his smooth cleanly shaven jaw. It caught him off guard to the point where the fluidity in his body turned sharp and mechanical. The feel of the tender touch singed at his skin, like she were pure battery acid. Alex immediately caught her hand by the wrist, and roughly pinned it to the desk. The blouse had fallen out of her mouth with her soft mewlings, her whispering his name over and over like it were part of her daily affirmations.

Alex decided he was annoyed by her and her tantric facial expressions. The muscles in her face twisting and contorting to create the most off putting looks, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He tried closing his eyes, but upon that he decided he didn't like how vulnerable that felt. So he pulled out of her and flipped her so that he had her bent over the desk.

With his feet he kicked her feet apart to widen her stance. His hand gripped tightly in her sweat dampened hair, pulling her head back, so that her neck was elongated, the back of her head resting against his shoulder. Alex quickened his pace sending hard jolts of pleasure raking throughout her body. He loved holding her there, literally caught in his grasp, no escape unless he were to will it. The pleasure which she felt was his doing, he could give it to her, he could take it away. He was depleting her strength and energy and filling her with life all at once with just the mere movements of his hips. More importantly, he was asserting dominance over someone who had thought themselves to be on top.

He was literally on top.

And he refused to have it any other way.

"Your father is a great man." She moaned as he pumped in and out of her. "Mmm, he raised you right."

Alex's face scrunched in distaste and general disgust, the conversation was wrong on so many levels. He could have sworn he went limp inside her right there. The subject of his father being interjected mid sex was far from arousing, in fact he preferred there was minimal conversation.

"Can we not talk about my father? Or talk at all?"

"I'm praising you!" She managed to speak between her moans.

"If you want, you can praise my dick with your mouth a different way. Either shut up, or get back down on your knees." Alex commanding.

It didn't do much to pacify her talking, even when he pushed her back down so that her face was hovering just above the desk.

"I need to take you to New York with me. Fuck! You fuck me so good!"

Alex's brows pressed together. Not understanding how a small town detective could make it in New York. She had piqued his curiosity. "What's in New York?

He drove in, long and sharp this time, his movement turning into a staccato rhythm that elicited a loud gasp from her. Surely those outside her office could hear them now.

"My meal ticket Nikita Grace giving me all the celebrity credit I need to get me out of here. I'll be starting with the NYPD in a few short months. And she'll be getting the professional help she needs. And that Deahler kid's death is like a goldmine."

Alex's rhythm began to slow down, his grip in her hair opening to release her. "What does that mean? About Nikita?"

Hirst was too lost in her rigorous climb of pleasure, her teeth grinding back onto her blouse. So Alex pulled out completely, he heard Hirst give out an annoyed groan before looking at him over her shoulder. Her onyx eyes boring a hole into Alex's chest, she had yet to get off.

"Are you withholding your dick from me now?"

"Answer my question." Alex said sternly, finger pinching the base of his condom, threatening to take it off and walk away.

Hirst turned around to face him, leaning on her desk, not one to swallow an ultimatum like a handful of dry uncoated pills.

"A source who works front desk at Eichen House spotted Nikita earlier today. Nikita will probably be checking in tomorrow." She said with a shrug of her shoulders like it were nothing. Like a teenage girl wasn't thrust into the spotlight, made believed to have attempted suicide in order for Hirst to gain her fifteen seconds of fame.

Alex stood perplexed for a moment, blinking hard as the information started to seep into his brain. He then took off his condom anyways, tying the end and throwing it in the trash next to Hirst, who looked completely offended now.

She let out a victimized scoff, mouth hanging open, her pinkish lipstick smeared down to her chin. Alex picked up his denims off the ground and fished in his back pocket, pulling out his phone. Hirst began to elongate her body on the desk, craning her neck back to give him the most lewd and provocative pose. She was under the impression Alex had stopped the fuck-fest midway to take photos to save in his spank bank.

"Why?" Alex muttered, judging her with a strong side eye glare and turning around so his back was to her.

"If you're not taking photos, what the fuck are you doing?" Hirst sitting like a normal person now.

Alex put the phone back into his pocket and hopped into his pants. "Not you, that's for certain."

That got Hirst to snap, she was so used to being the face of authority that it frazzled her when someone else stepped up, or brushed off any power she thought to have possessed. He was rude and brash.

He quickly opened the door to her mini fridge, helping himself to a replenishing drink. Upon seeing the contents in there he shook his head, judging what was present. A jar of almond butter, a few twinkies, a few tall cans of energy drinks, and a Sunny Delight orange juice.

Alex grabbed at the orange juice. "Sunny D? What are you ten?"

"Oh i'm sorry is your blood sugar low?" Hirst barked back, struggling to put her bra back on, coming down from the high Alex had just snuffed out. "By all means, go right through my shit. You earned it, thanks for not making me cum."

"Couldn't be bothered to." Alex going back to his phone and scrolling through his contacts.

His head tilted quickly to the right, a pair of black chunky high heels narrowly missing his face, Alex's reflexes much too sharp for her.

"You're a piece of shit!" Hirst shouted at him.

"Rub one out, you'll feel better." Alex not giving into her frustrations. "Or better yet, find another kid to profit off of and maybe you can buy yourself the most the most expensive toy to fuck yourself with."

"I'm desirable, you fucker! I don't need you!" Hirst screamed, throwing her second shoe right at him like a well polished ninja star. Alex caught it in his hand, and threw it directly into the trash, where frankly, she belonged. This time she picked up her desk lamp.

"Time to go," he said, shrugging into his shirt but leaving the front unbuttoned. Taunting her with glimpses of his toned stomach. He was ripped and he knew it, and so did she. Their sweat had dried, but there was still the slightest sheen glistening on his skin and the crisp hairs there, and he wanted her to see it. Just so she had an idea of what she lost out on.

It worked. Hirst hesitated, the lamp limply dangling from suddenly numb fingers where only a moment ago she'd meant to fling it at his head. Alex smirked as she swallowed her suddenly dry throat, a fresh need of desire resurfacing.

Alex was about to make his way out the door, phone and Sunny Delight in hand, but of course had to leave with one last longing impression.

"And uh, Hirst. You're like the last donut in the box. Jelly filled. Everybody touches you but let's be real...nobody actually wants you."

She stood up, lamp back in her clutches!

Alex quickly ducked out the door, her shrill scream following him out, the loud bang and shatter of the lamp hitting the door. All eyes in the precinct were on Alex now, it wasn't that hard to figure out that he and Hirst had been fooling around in there. His sandy hair a mess, his shirt completely unbuttoned.

"Gentleman." Alex said with his impish smile at the few astonished faces around him.

He pressed his ear to the phone and made his way outside, seating himself at the front steps of the precinct. The night air cool against his skin.

Alex waited for his little brother to pick up the phone, taking a sip of the much too artificial orange juice. His fingers raked through his damp sandy hair, it took him everything not to yank it out. Alex was frustrated, fed up, and more importantly...

He was out of time...

Jonesy finally picked up, Alex not allowing his brother a single word. "Look. You were right."

Mighty big of him to admit, because Alex was almost always never wrong. But he was in this case, terribly, absolutely, god awfully wrong. Just saying those words left a foul taste in his mouth, he hoped to never say it again.

"I'm not the dick you think I am. And if I'd known things would get so out of hand . . .So insanely bat shit crazy and damaging..."

If he had known, would he have dealt with things differently? Would he have acted on his responsibilities sooner? No. Because no matter how much time he had given himself, he would have never been ready. The fear was gripping, but there was no other choice.

"It happens tonight Jonesy. You hear me?" Alex licking the sugar and citrus off his bottom lip.

"Tonight."

* * *

DID YOU LIKE IT? Please tell me you enjoyed it! If you read this and liked it please let me know! Reviews are my only source of validation, and validation to a writer is like fuel. Keep fueling me and reassure me you'll be there for the next story too!

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Can't wait for the last chapter guys! ;]


	38. The Last Game part 3

**Wow.**

 **Here we are guys, it's the last chapter of this story.**

 **There are so many of you I need to thank. Firstly, those of you who have already read this story in its original version. You guys have been so incredible and supportive. Thank you for believing me as a writer, thank you for believing in this rewrite, I really hope it's been even more of a joy to read than the original.**

 **To my fellow writers who create the most amazing refreshing original characters, you guys were a big inspiration for me getting back to my feet. I was in a shitty place, physically and mentally. And this story was like a part of my soul and it felt like it was ripped away from me. Thank you for helping with sparking my creativity once more; it feels fucking good to be back.**

 **Thank you to those of you who have ever spent time on my docs, helping me out or just there to make sure i'm actually writing and not fucking around. You guys always give me the push I need to assert myself as an author, and help find my voice.**

 **Thank you to my new readers and reviewers. You guys honestly put a smile on my face every time you leave a review, and give me so much motivation to keep going and not give up on this story. You guys play such an integral part in this story, with every review I want to make you guys proud, make you guys smile, and more importantly make you guys weep (either from sadness or frustration) It helps knowing people actually care about this story, or care about my characters.**

 **I'll stop with the sap fest now. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Please leave me love and reviews, I need to know you guys are willing to join my side as we go into battle with the next story! Because The Gloaming has barely skimmed the surface of whats to come!**

 **Also follow my tumblr Hourofthegloaming where you can find many edits made by myself and my lovely readers, teasers for the next story, also Q &A's!**

* * *

Relief came to Stiles in the form of his face meeting the asphalt, but at least he was finally free.

His fingers scratched at the wet ground in attempt to try and get up. Stiles was lying in front of his driveway after Gerard's thug carelessly dumped him out of the van like yesterday's garbage. He had sworn that he had seen both Erica and Boyd back there. The two Betas had been tied up with electric currents keeping them debilitated. Gerard methods of torture were truly sinister and inhumane.

Stinging pain radiated across Stiles' face, his right eye nearly swollen shut, attempting to even blink made it worse. Gerard's lackey didn't bother to take off his godfather-esque rings when he decided to pummel his fist into Stiles' face countless times. The front door seemed so far away, but he had to get inside where it was safe and warm.

Stiles gathered the strength to barely get up off the floor, stumbling around with his weak knees. Every step was reigniting his pain, now cruelly reminded how brittle and fragile the human body actually is. With the palm of his hand he opened the front door, letting the warmth and familiar comforting scent of his home engulf him. He needed to find his father, let him know that he was okay.

Except his father wasn't home. He was probably patrolling all of Beacon Hills, scouring every corner of this damned town looking for him.

With uneven footsteps, Stiles made his way up the stairs, every particle in his body aching. When he opened the door, he was stunned to see Nikita sitting on his bed, her hands crossed in her lap; waiting for him. She stood up quickly upon seeing his bruised and bloodied face, her eyes and mouth wide with horror. It looked like she was ready to cry, empathizing for Stiles.

"H-hi.' Was all he said. He could have kicked himself for being such an idiot, but he honestly was surprised to see her. She should have been home, safe, not here worrying for him.

"Hi." Her voice small like a mouse, as if her voice itself could cause him distress. Nikita had yet to move from her spot, still stunned by what she saw. "Your dad wanted me here, in case you returned home."

Stiles' elated heart was so happy to see her that he smiled, too wide a smile, cracking the cut on his lip even deeper so that it began to bleed once more. And that's when the tears began to build behind her doe eyes upon the sight of his pain; one would think it was her with the cuts upon her face.

Stiles' eyes went wide with panic, he had frightened her without meaning to! "No! Please don't cry! I'm fine!"

He pulled her shaking body in for a hug and held her tight as she tried to gather herself, her face pressed into his chest. Stiles rested his chin on the top of her head, his hands rubbing comforting circles into Nikita's back. With his eyes closed he inhaled the sweet scent of her white jasmine perfume. His fingers ran through her dark silken hair, he wanted to pull her in tighter if it weren't for his aching body. It had been so long since he touched her, he forgot how much he craved just being near her. This felt right, her here in his arms, where he could feel her body heat, where he could hear her soft breathing. Her breathing alone was the lullaby that melted all the heavy worries off his weary shoulders. Nikita pulled away and looked at him like he were the fragile one.

"You're hurt, you're not fine." Her shaky voice coming out in a whisper.

He couldn't stand seeing her like this, upset and worried. "Nah, It just looks worse than it really is." Stiles tapped the side of his swollen cheek to prove his point. It still stung like a motherfucker.

But he kept himself calm in front of Nikita, not wanting to frighten her anymore than she already was. It worked, she actually let out a laugh but quickly covered her smiling lips with her hand, ashamed to be laughing in such a tense moment. He didn't mind, he liked the way her childlike laugh sounded.

"Good job, idiot." She said between her laugh.

Once again Stiles couldn't help but to smile himself, this time not too wide. When they were holding eye contact for those few seconds, Stiles was taken back to the last faded moments he remembered being truly happy; when he was with her at the dance. How their friendship slid back into place so easily, it was like there was never any gaping wide hole between them. Nikita's smile began to fade when she examined his face once more.

Her soft hand grazed the side of his bruised face, Stiles relished her touch, but damn it still hurt. He closed his eyes to memorize the feel of her skin against his, her tenderness, a simple feeling which was missing from this rough new life. Nikita's finger traced the line of his jaw, then softly wiped the blood off of his busted lip with the pad of her thumb. She looked at a bead of blood that collected on her finger tip with hard concentration and swallowed thickly. Her attention solely on that now, like he weren't in the room. He watched her, watched her rubbing her fingers together to allow Stiles' blood to smear across her fingers. Almost like she were hyperfixated with the substance, not being one used to seeing others bleed.

"Stiles... what happened?" She finally looked to him.

There it was, the question he really didn't want to answer. This was the part where he was supposed to tell her everything, literally everything that he had kept from her, that everyone had kept from her. However, Stiles was beyond that now, he was just imagining her in that basement, tied up and beaten down. It could have easily been Nikita in his place, her only saving grace was remaining ignorant of the supernatural world.

He had promised himself he would talk to Nikita about all that was kept from her. And now he was going back on his words. He truly believed now was not the time.

"It's complicated." He answered, and it was just that. Complicated. That's what the truth would do. Complicate things. Like it had done in his life, like it had done with his friendships and relationships, even with his relationship with his own father.

Stiles made his way to the computer chair and slumped his achy bones into the seat.

"It doesn't have to be." Nikita whispered while wringing her fingers, contemplating if she should slip her hand in his. "Maybe I could help, Stiles let me help."

"Nik." He whispered, wishing she would just drop the subject, her prying was making everything even more difficult and adding onto the unbearable stress that he was dealing with. He didn't want this for her, he didn't want her to be sad and paranoid, but he also didn't want her in danger, laying awake at night afraid for her life and the lives of those around her. The constant weight on his heart was unbearable at times, he didn't want that for her.

Nikita bit her bottom lip and looked to him with worry, sitting back on the bed across from him.

"Is this a money thing? Do you guys owe money or something?"

"Niki." He said her name again, this time with a little more impatience as she rambled on. She was scratching at his walls and as much as he wanted to let her in, dear god he wanted to let her in so bad, he couldn't.

"If this has anything to do with you and Scott owing Derek money or something, I can help." She waved her arms frantically around her, deep into her fast paced non-sense, pulling out all these narratives that had nothing to do with anything. "My dad can help! You know this!"

"Niki!" Stiles shouted, causing her to jump.

"It's complicated is not an answer, Stiles!" Nikita shouted right back!

"It is!" Stiles getting up from his seat to take a step towards her, both of their voices elevated and both of their anger and frustration coming to a boiling point that threatened to burn them both if they weren't careful.

She looked absolutely horrified at the sight of his bruised and marred skin, or perhaps tt his sudden out of character anger, the two of them coming head to head.

"You're selfless to the point of not caring if you get hurt!" Stiles pointing to the angry bruises and cuts along his face. "Look at this! Look at me! This is NOTHING compared to the pain and agony that comes with the secrets I've been keeping from you! If I tell you, you'll probably end up dead in the gutter!"

Nikita was now completely struck in stark confusion. Yet, as the milliseconds passed she was starting to just grasp the dire situation he and Scott were in. The danger was real, and she was only feeling a fraction of it just by standing on the outside of the supernatural ring.

Stiles took another step towards Nikita and collapsed to his knees before her, grabbing both of her hands. An act of dire desperation. She needed to understand. "I DIED the night of Winter Formal when you went missing, Nikita! I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, I was a walking hollow idiot for those five days and nights! I died inside! I can't lose you again!"

It was like the floodgates had opened and all his pent up emotions and anger came flooding out. Anger and passion he directed towards her even though none of it was her fault.

"Too many nights where I just couldn't sleep. You were out there!" Stiles pointing out his window.

"Alone and scared and hurting. I should have been there with you. I never should have let you go the night of Formal." Stiles could feel a lump forming in his throat as he confessed his deepest regret. How he had been such a coward back then. Hot tears began to stream down his face, Stiles instinctively using his right shoulder to wipe off a tear.

"I should have protected you then. Nik. I failed you. This is me protecting you now!"

Nikita's eyes were on the verge of tears, but this time she would not let them fall, she could not let them fall. She swallowed thickly and took the backlash of Stiles' pent up turbulent emotions. They didn't hurt her, not as much as the secrets and lies did. How did this turn into such a mess? She wondered. Nikita had come to confess her feelings to Stiles, put herself on the line and hope for the best...Well that went up in flames real fast.

Nikita pulled her hand away from Stiles. "Your definition of protecting me is completely wrong. I don't need your protection."

She got up to her feet, prompting Stiles to get up as well. A sullen silence fell between them, neither sure of where the conversation should go now. This felt like the penultimate moment in the movie where Stiles would feel heroic, the girl of his dreams would kiss him and thank him with gratitude. And then they would get together. He could have both things, a secret life and Nikita.

"You're right, it is complicated. Way too complicated for me" Nikita clearing her throat in order to steady her voice. " And clearly none of my business. I should get going."

"Nik." He said hoping the nickname would stop her from leaving. Gently he grabbed her arm before she could get to the door.

"Everything I've done was to protect you, please believe me." His voice cracking over the heavy lump building in his throat.

"You should probably call your dad, he's worried sick." She said in a shaky voice, speaking as though she would never see him again. Nikita stood on the tip of her toes in order to reach Stiles' left cheek, the unscathed cheek. And planted a kiss there. "Goodbye, Stiles."

Stiles let go of her arm, his own falling limply, this time she turned around to get one last look at him before leaving.

"Idiot!" Stiles scolded himself, kicking the trash bin over. A flurry of angry papers of research flew into the air. He slumped onto his bed and ran his fingers over the bristles of his buzzed hair. His phone went off as soon as he laid down, it was Scott. He picked up the phone hoping his friend had some encouraging words or good news, Stiles knew the chances of anything good ever happening were slim to none.

" Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" Scott's voice frantic on the other end.

Stiles let out a sigh before collapsing on his bed "Yeah, I'm alright"

"That's a lie." Scott said without hesitation. Stiles held the phone out and looked at it in confusion before putting it back to his ear.

"How the hell?"

"I can hear the irregularities in your voice." The Beta stated nonchalantly.

"Gerard did hurt you." Scott stated with such cold venom that Stiles could feel goose bumps prickling at his skin. He had never heard Scott sound so angry. "And I'm guessing you just talked to Nikita."

Stiles' eyes widened "Is that part of your werewolf senses too?" He asked with astonishment.

Scott let out a sigh "I can sense your sadness, and she's the only person who can ruin you. Plus she literally texted me a minute ago."

His brows pressed together, Nikita and Scott were in communication? " She has your number?"

"Uhh yeah, seeing how she'll eventually be my step sister. Plus I told her to text me if you came home. Anyways, did you tell her?"

" No, I didn't think it was right. It's just so risky. I can't Scott...I couldn't do it."

Scott didn't respond...falling silent with contemplation.

"Do you think I made the wrong decision?"

"You're my best friend." Scott said, reassuring his friend. "I stand by you no matter what."

Scott's silent way of saying it was a terrible decision, Stiles went silent wondering if he had done the right thing. Only to reassure himself time and time again.

"Look, I think Derek may have figured out how to help Jackson. Meet me at my place in fifteen minutes."

* * *

\- Scott's POV-

Saving Jackson with the power of love?

This had to be some kind of a joke.

Derek had sworn he knew how to help pull Jackson out of the Kanima's curse, out of Gerard's control. Scott didn't ask where this idea came from, how Derek Hale of all people suddenly cared about saving Jackson Whittemore. The idea alone sounded so far-fetched, reminding Jackson of what he desired the most. For cold blooded creatures felt no love, but even Jackson himself could conjure such feelings and emotions. Or at least Scott hoped so, because for this plan to work, Jackson had to feel something.

There were no options left, nothing else to fall back on. He really hoped Derek was right, this was their last resort.

Scott had to really sit and think in order to formulate a plan. Jackson's life depended on Scott now. What did the jock love besides himself, popularity, and material possessions? This would be like finding a needle in an endless haystack.

For a second Scott contemplated on using Jackson's porsche to reignite the spark of love in Jackson's cold blooded heart….but then he remembered….

Scott walked down the school halls in the dead of night by himself to find Jackson's locker. The Beta simply crushed the lock within his grip, opening the locker. There it was, a silken royal blue bomber jacket. Scott's thumb ran along the golden thread embroidery of roses, it was nice. He remembered the last time he had seen Jonesy in this jacket. It was the same day he found out Jackson had intense feelings for Jonesy, Scott also finding out that it was Jackson who bought the jacket for Jonesy. Jonesy had grown fed up with Jackson, done with his ruthless and horrid demeanor, giving Jackson the jacket back.

It still smelled of the wrestler. Sharp spice like deodorant spray.

"Come through for us, Jonesy. I hope this is enough to bring Jackson back." Scott whispered while bunching the material in his hands.

* * *

\- Nikita's POV-

The forged documents were folded in her purse, ready to go.

Everything was packed and ready for tomorrow morning. Even after the scare she had with the screaming girl, Nikita was still set on checking herself into Eichen House. She needed this, for whatever shred of sanity she had left. She had to take care of herself.

Surely no one else would.

Nikita had tried talking to Stiles, but it had blown up in her face. She was frustrated to the point of not caring to try with him anymore, she had turned deaf to his words. He claimed to be protecting her from the ominous big bad 'they'. Perhaps he was, his face was proof of that. Stiles could protect her all he wanted, she would be entering treatment by morning anyways.

She stuffed her bags into the trunk of her driveway, the neighborhood under a sleepy spell in the dead of night. Nothing seemed to turn the slumber of Beacon Hills.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck were on ends. A sixth sense of hers was telling her she was not alone. She turned around to see Jonesy standing under the dim street lamp. His shadow stood tall, falling upon her and cloaking her in darkness. His blue eyes glued to her open trunk, on the duffle bags.

"Going on a road trip?" He mused, having yet to peel away from where he stood.

"Los Angeles, for a few days." Was all she said, swallowing dryly and hoping he would just leave her be.

"So it's true?" He asked her, his dark brows met together to scrunch his smooth forehead, his spearmint blues looked at her with hurt. As if she were the one betraying him. "About Eichen House?"

He had somehow seen past her lie, how the hell did Jonesy know about Eichen House? No one knew about Eichen House.

Jonesy started to walk up to her now, but Nikita stood her ground, not showing an ounce of fear or discomfort.

"It's none of your business." She hissed. And it truly wasn't, she didn't think of him as a friend or a trusted ally anymore, in fact he posed a threat over her.

"Will you ever forgive me?" Jonesy inching even closer to her, crossing her personal boundaries.

"I wouldn't waste my breath." Nikita couldn't be any more clear of her dislike of him. "Now get the hell away from me. Or I swear I'll scream again."

"I am sorry though, Nikita." Jonesy standing toe to toe with her. His height toppling hers.

"Yeah, I got that."

"And I'm really sorry for what i'm about to do."

Nikita froze, unsure of what that had meant. She didn't even have a moment to bat a 's when he grabbed her arm, spun her around and slammed her face against the trunk of her car. She hit the cold wet asphalt, black spots dancing in her sight. Nikita could feel the warm gush of blood trickling out of her nose and pooling before her. It felt as though her face had been split in two. Her fingers curled and scratched at the pavement as she desperately tried to get up. She wanted to scream out for help, but all that came out was a raspy choke. Nikita pushed herself off the floor and began to crawl to her house, towards the open door. She could hear his footsteps slowly following her.

"We don't have time Nikita, we have to go." Jonesy said in a hushed whisper.

Nikita's strength gave out as she collapsed on the ground. Even though she didn't make it to the porch steps she stretched her hand out, wanting to be inside her safe warm home. Her head was aching, her vision tunneling.

Her eyes grew heavier by the second, Jonesy standing above her, in her blurred line of vision.

"I'm sorry, I never wanted to cause you pain." His words starting to drift in her head. "But I promise all of it will stop hurting soon."

* * *

She woke up with the veins around her temples screaming and throbbing like hell and her vision hazy. It took a few seconds to adjust to the darkness and the movement. Black wiry fingers of branches clasped and swayed together ; fingers of moonlight illuminated the dirt road in front of her. Nikita blinked slowly, unsure of what was happening or where she was for that matter. She was off the main road, where no one could find or follow her. Nikita squeezed her eyes shut as she rode another dull wave of pain. She had to go, she had to find her father, she had to find safety.

But she couldn't move. The seat belt across her chest felt restricting, holding her down like a restraint. It would make it hard for her to execute a swift escape. She looked to the window where her head rested earlier to see a mess of dark crimson smudged onto the glass. Nikita's fingers went straight to the gash on her forehead. She hissed at the stinging pain pulsating along with her own heart beat. It came back to her, the last thing she saw was the door to her home, after Jonesy smashed her face into the trunk. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she recalled the incident perfectly. He was beside her in the driver's seat, wordless. The silence was unsettling and creeping under her skin like a parasitic worm burrowing beneath. Nikita looked to Jonesy, pale moonlight and deep shadows danced across his face, his hardened gaze sat transfixed on the road, concentrating hard. His eyes didn't dare leave the road, even when she woke.

His skin was pulled over his knuckles, grip tightening over the steering wheel. She couldn't tell if Jonesy was furious or nervous.

"I'm sorry for this." Jonesy finally speaking to her.

"Why are you doing this?" Nikita croaked, head and heart full of hurt. She had never expected her coming back to Beacon Hills would end up like this. Los Angeles had been kinder, the people here were sipping some sort of berserk drug. No one here claimed to be who they truly were.

Jonesy pulled over, putting the car in park.

He gave out a long sorry sigh, still not looking at her. "I'm doing what I should have been done long ago. C'mon."

There wasn't a second's hesitation as Nikita's fist went flying straight into Jonesy's stone hard face, throwing him off guard. A crippling pain shot through her entire hand to her elbow, she couldn't help but to scream out when the sudden bolt of pain shocked her. But it didn't stop her from unbuckling her seat belt, opening the car door, and running out. Her feet hit the slick leaf littered ground. Nikita didn't even get a start when an iron hand clasped around her arm and dragged her back. How Jonesy recovered so fast was beyond her. Her blood curdling scream penetrated into the night and all too soon silenced as Jonesy put his hand over her mouth. They were at the edge of the preserves; no one would hear them here.

In fact Nikita understood exactly where they were.

There it stood before her, the quaint butter yellow Victorian home she had seen a few times before. Budding purple flowers grew on serpentine like vines that had attached themselves to the face of the home and refused to let go. In the day it was to be marveled at, a home that looked suited for Ina Garten herself. But at night, in the dark, the house looked so dreary and bleak. She knew this home.

Jonesy's home.

She struggled, she kicked, and she put up a fight. But he was stronger than what she had imagined.

"You're making this so much harder than it needs to be." Jonesy said in a taught voice.

That's when he twisted Nikita's arm behind her back, her eyes shot wide to the heavens above her as her knees buckled. Now he could maneuver her with ease, against her own will. He began to push her towards the home, she tried to dig her heels in the earth, creating deep grooves in the leaf covered ground, but with a sharp twist of her arm he was able to control her again. His other hand remained over Nikita's mouth, refusing to take it off until they were in the home.

Nikita's eyes widened, what was Jonesy up to? Was her once-friend planning her demise?

They walked into the darkened home, the dimmest of lights to guide them. No one seemed to be home, it was empty apart from the two of them.

"What are you doing Jonesy!? Please!" Nikita screamed, finding herself in a position where she was begging for her life, yet again.

"You don't have to do this." Nikita begged. Anger and fight had escaped her; instead it was replaced with fear and helplessness.

Her eyes widened when they walked through the home and reached the door to the basement. He looked to her, wearing a somber face, just before opening the door. This had to be a mistake, for only a second ago he was looking at her like she were a hurt animal, she swore she saw a sorry expression on his face. Now he wanted to shove her into a basement?

He didn't want to do this. Maybe he was forced to do this!

"Jonesy! Please!" Her voice shaking to no end.

He remained deaf to her pleas. Instead he lead her inside, stepping into the basement with her.

'Click' went the lock.

There was no way for her to escape, for he stood behind her on the steps, guarding the door. He was above her, at an advantage to overpower if she dared try to escape. A lump was building in her throat, her eyes began to tear up. Fear was like a hot twisting knife in the pit of her stomach. Nikita was paralyzed, her feet like two blocks of cement super glued to the wooden steps. She had underestimated him the whole time, just like she had with Matt. How foolish she had been to be deceived so easily, not once, not just twice.

Everyone she had known in Beacon Hills was a deceiver.

And now there was no escaping, not this time.

She turned to look at him one last time, hoping that her once friend was still there, still cared for her.. "Please, I just... I just want to go home. I won't tell anyone about this, I swear."

Jonesy couldn't even bare to look at her. Maybe he was ashamed, maybe he too was afraid, maybe he would crack upon looking her in the eyes for he was weak for her.

"Begging won't get you out of this." A cold familiar voice said.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat. It was as though the stiff air around them turned viscous, and she was finding it hard to take another breath. She could feel every inch of her flesh prickle with goosebumps as a bitter ice sensation trickled down her spine. Nikita slowly turned to see bright familiar eyes staring back at her. Just the sight of him and his hawkish sadistic smile churned the acid in her stomach.

Alex lingered at the bottom of the steps, half hidden in the shadows.

His smile died now.

Something more sinister took its place.

Nikita's fingers curled to fists, a last desperate attempt if they were to hurt her. She even remembered to place her thumb over her fist this time, just like her father had taught her. Even with that in mind, there was no winning, she was a frightened doe trapped between the two tall brothers. Jonesy himself was a brick wall blocking the exit.

Alex slowly walked up the wooden stairs, the planks groaning beneath his weight. His long fingers dancing up the banister in a playful childish way. This all seemed to be a game to him, he was either amused by her or completely vacant to her horrors.

Nikita backed away cautiously, trying to put space between her and the older Jones brother. She managed to bump into Jonesy who had come down a few steps, they were closing in on her doom. Jonesy's fingers came to grip Nikita's shoulders, forcing her to stay put, firmly keeping her there.

Alex moved resolutely forward, coming to stand directly in front of the quivering girl. Finally face-to-face with him, Nikita had no choice but to look up into his vibrant eyes. With the shadows falling upon him it looked like they were that of a sea in the dead of a stormy night. they carried an element of brutality and disaster like mother nature herself. Beautiful, terrifying, capable of so much more than one would expect. The angelic face that many fawned over - herself included for a brief time- was no more, he was satan in a leather jacket.

His gaze was so intimidating, he was peering right into her soul. But deep in there, hidden beneath the icy demeanor was something she didn't expect to see of him. A hint of sorrow, a hint of loss, even fear within himself. His hardened concentrated gaze starting to soften.

"You have no idea, do you?" He asked with his eyes narrowed on her. Studying her where she stood. She could smell the scent of him with how close he was, clean, soapy, and ruined by the lingering scent of cigarette smokes.

"Of course you know. Maybe not on the surface. But deep, deep, deep inside you've always known everything, Nikita. You just always found ways to doubt yourself because of how people would treat you, because the reality of it all was so difficult to swallow."

Nikita didn't answer, afraid to make a sound, she had no clue what he was on about. Alex sounded like a madman, most likely he was. She was afraid of him, afraid he might lash out violently, there was no predicting him now.

Alex shut his eyes, breathing deeply and then exhaling in a rush. "This is my fault. I'll admit to that. You were never my priority." His glance shot across her to land on Jonesy, who still remained silent.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She demanded harshly, her voice weaker than she would have liked but still laced with a mild venom. She was terrified but still far from defeated. She had a fighting spirit and Alex could see that. Nikita needed him to see it.

Alex took an exasperated breath like that of an impatient museum guide during a field trip of preschoolers, she was a mere intrusion to his life, a splinter lodged beneath his nail. Nikita jumped when his hand shot out. Her heart stuttered and stopped then, her whole body going stiff. He forced her fingers to lift and slipped something hard and warm onto her palm.

Nikita froze, breathing hard now and watched Alex take a step back from her. Her panic had turned to a blistering heat, it clawed up to her shoulders and constricted around her neck, dizzying her.

"You wanted to know the truth? Well here it is." Alex cocked his head to her hand, silently telling her to look.

Slowly, so slowly, Nikita lowered her eyes and uncurled her fingers to see what he had placed in her hand.

Horror shot through her with what she saw. Her gaze whipped back up to Alex, her eyes asking him if what she saw was real.

"Oh god." She groaned, feeling nauseous.

It was a shiny silver quarter.

That was it.

Alex. It was Alex leaving the quarters, leading her around, placing them on her eyes. It was all Alex's doing.

Her legs went liquid, unable to hold herself up. Nikita collapsed to the floor, taking a seat on the step. Disbelief and horror rose with the bile. The acidity coating her tongue. She wanted to throw up right here. The silver coin slipped between her sweaty trembling fingers and hit the stairs, rolling over the fading aged wood with a slight metallic clinking.

'Clink.' It hit the next step, still rolling.

"This can't be happening, this is NOT happening." She reassured herself and she gathered her knees to her chest, holding herself. All those times she had woken in the middle of the preserves...He had been the person planting the quarters on her.

"I can assure you, it is." Alex adding from where he stood.

'Clink."

Nikita could only stare into dead space, unable to break her dissociating transfixion while her body quaked with fear. Her eyes began to sting with briny tears building up in her eyes. Her mind was starting to go numb, trying to shut out the thousands of thoughts running rampant and clawing at her mind.

'Clink.' The quarter kept going.

Alex lowered himself to her level, with that subtle hint of amusement that so faintly pulled at his lips. "As stubborn as I am, I'll admit. This went too far. Secrets and lies can be so….exhausting. I'm sure you would agree."

Nikita's head lifted to look at Alex. It was then she noticed at this angle, from where she was below him, how the bare lamp hung above his head. It darkened his figure to an almost silhouette, she could only make out faint details of his face. It illuminated the back and the crown of his head to make it so that his sandy hair was glowing bright gold.

A halo sat atop Alex's head.

And he asked.

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"Are you scared, Nikita Grace?"


	39. Epilogue

"What….happened last night?" Isaac said from behind his Alpha.

The two of them were walking through the preserves to get to Derek's old burnt down home, there were still more things Derek wanted to salvage from the ash filled wreck.

The question itself was appropriate. So much had happened in a blink of an eye last night that Derek never really had the time to process it or replay it in his head. He felt mindless, exhaustion had gripped his bone to the point where every footstep felt heavy. Isaac was still healing from the many ring daggers Allison had driven into his back. Maybe it was the best time to recount the events that lead up to one hell of a climax.

Derek remembered clearly now how terribly Gerard wanted to be turned into a werewolf. No one had suspected it, no one understood that he was dilapidating and wearing off on the inside, for he looked so normal on the outside. He was willing to betray whatever codes and morals The Collection had kept for centuries, willing to betray his own family just to have powers that were never meant to be bestowed on him.

The soft paper thin flesh was easy to pierce into. Derek remembered biting down on Gerard's arm. Gerard was relentless in wanting to become a werewolf. Derek only complied with intentions of killing him right away. What he or no one else had expected was what had come to follow. Gerard's body had rejected the bite so violently. Within mere seconds of receiving the bite from Derek, he was spewing out black goo.

It was when Gerard cracked open his pills did the fine black dust spill to the ground.

Someone had tampered with Gerard's pills, filling them with Mountain Ash instead of his daily medications. They would never understand who, just knew it was someone who wanted him dead and gone. Derek was thankful, and had an idea of who it could be.

Was it possible Walter Grace was playing the game from the sidelines?

"You think he's dead?" Isaac wasn't even looking straight ahead, his attention being held by the nature around them. Of all his Betas, wherever they were, he certainly was the most curious. Or possibly the one with the shortest attention span. Derek was thankful for him, for how loyal Isaac was. The young Beta was the only one who stood by his side now.

"He's probably rotted off to hell now." Derek said quietly, mindfully.

Gerard had slipped out when all their attention had gone to Jackson. Scott and Stiles had only shown up with a plastic grocery bag which held a blue silken jacket. Derek had expected Scott to fail then, showing up with some Urban Outfitters garbage. But alas, he had underestimated Scott McCall yet again, the boy was smarter than he had let on. It had worked. Jackson immediately recognized the jacket. His yellow slitted eyes dissolved back to cloudy blues, his earthy scales vanished to reveal the terrified human underneath. He held onto that jacket like it were his life line, burying his nose to inhale the scent of what Derek thought to be another boy.

The night had been salvaged. Jackson had been saved, broken free of his curse. Gerard had been defeated. Scott's girlfriend was able to calm down after her homicidal stint that nearly left poor Isaac dead.

It was a muggy morning, the air filled with cold precipitation. Typical for Beacon Hills. It matched Derek's perpetual mood. Even if they had put out the fire, another would soon start. Peter being alive and back in Derek's life was a dying ember, that he himself was breathing life back into. It would grow, it would consume, and it would destroy...eventually. Derek himself would have to snuff him out soon.

And while Derek thought Peter to be nothing but a mere ember, he didn't understand the inferno that would soon be coming for him and the town of Beacon Hills.

"Whoah."

He heard Isaac stop in his tracks, he probably found a cool looking pine cone or something rather distracting. Derek turned around to find what Isaac was staring at. It was a mere pine tree, but this pine tree had been scarred with a simple symbol.

The letter 'V' had been clawed onto the bark of the tree, penetrating the flesh so that it bled red and amber sap. Derek came to touch the sap finding that it was neither fresh nor hardened.

Isaac's sky blue eyes panned the forest, curious, nervous. "There's another!"

Sure enough, the tree across from them had the same marking. Derek began to walk, brushing it off, while Isaac straggled behind to examine the other tree. He didn't want to read too much into things, maybe it was a group of kids playing around with a knife they found. Derek, in the back of his mind, knew all too well those were claw marks. He couldn't accept the fact that they were embarking on yet another onslaught of danger.

He was so tired.

"Crap." Derek muttered, for every tree they passed that lead up to his home had the same marks.

He picked up his pace. Derek could feel Isaac's nerves, they were practically screaming. The young perceptive Beta could feel danger in the air. Someone was marking their territory. Someone was marking Derek's territory.

The Alpha stopped in his tracks, Isaac nearly ran into his back, but thankfully came to stand at his side. Derek put a protective arm out for Isaac to stand behind, for they were unsure of what they were dealing with. Etched deeply and angrily into the door that lead into the burnt down home was yet another 'V'.

Danger was thick in the air, it surrounded them, and now Derek felt like there had eyes on him. He turned and looked side to side, sniffing the air, but they were all alone. He was sure of it. Even the woodland creatures had fled from the area. No birds sang their melodic songs, no squirrels chirped and gnawed at acorns. The only thing that surrounded them was starkness in the form of silence, the unsettling storm in his stomach, and all the V's carved around them.

"What does any of it mean?" Isaac, quiet, also paranoid they were being watched.

"I don't know." Derek admitting. Hating that he would have to go to Peter for this, for he had a wealth of unattainable knowledge. " But something tells me we'll have to brace ourselves."

* * *

Hope you guys enjoyed that!

Please leave me love and reviews (Those who do will get a sneak preview of the next story)

The next story will be called The Awakening.

I'll leave an author's note on here when I update the new story!


	40. Author's note

Hello everyone! I'm excited to announce that the new story The Awakening will be updated tomorrow!

Please follow and favorite that story so you get notifications for when I update!

I can't wait to share my work with you guys, I know you'll all love it!


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